Chrissy Deiger

what i learned in the completion of my latest mixed media piece, Centile.

1.  do not be discouraged by the unexpected.

2. while working outside, in the winter, wear Smartwool socks.

3.  there is often a delay in satisfaction.

4.  precision is sometimes everything.  use a tape measure, often.

5.  stop just talking about it.  do it.

6. 100% is indeed complete.

7.  different materials like each other.  Adhere.

8.  it can always be better, but this is not what matters.

9.  trees are undeniably spectacular.  

10.  I am led to believe an image on Epson paper can survive a hurricane.  

My dear friend Leah took these pictures while visiting the NotBig exhibition at Logsdon Gallery in Chicago.  This is much appreciated, considering I was unable to see the exhibit in person!  Thank you Leah!  

You cannot separate art from the artist.  No matter how an artist chooses to deconstruct or explain their motivations there is no doubt they are inherently part of the piece. 

 There comes another level of purpose in the mere act of sharing art.  It not longer belongs to the artist.  It is free of definitive meanings and affections.  There exist layers upon layers of interpretations, all of which are determined by the individual, and ultimately, their life experience.  Perhaps this is the factor that of which divides the artist whom seeks of share, and those that don’t.  Once a piece of mine is on the wall, I at first drown in vulnerability, and later, experience an act of letting go. 

 (There it is.  And you walk away, slowly, backwards, with your hands out, as if it will suddenly move. Because if it does, you might just walk right out the door with it.)

 This catharsis later manifests itself through other art forms, such as music and film.  Sigur Ros, and the freeing of a balloon into the sky.  Explosions in the Sky and the visual rhythmic breaking of waves.  Goldmund and sliding one’s hand, gently, over the surface of water.  Cause and effect, and the beauty in transformation. 

 (Is it silly to admit how I fantasize?  How I also wish to produce an album?  And film leaves? Only leaves?)

 I have been working on a mixed media piece for what seems many years (though I think it may only be one and a half).  Nonetheless, it feels a lifetime.  I have met certain challenges that have slowed the process.  Some invited, some not.  Though, point being, the closer I get to finishing, the harder it gets.  Perhaps because I find the piece is no longer mine.  To me, sometimes, the concept is done; I have talked it and written it to death, though, in each visit to the garage, I pretend- as if I am looking at it again for the first time.  All this processing- all this construction- I remember- this has yet to be shared.  I must finish.  Otherwise, to me, it goes, like a whisper, away.  Is this why, we are often asked, “Any last words?” 

 I often call myself a quasi-anthropologist.  The only claim of expertise being my major in college.  Ultimately, we are are all anthropologists.  We are all wired to act, react, speak, and be.  It is in this “being” that we make choices.  These choices make differences.  And, well, I choose.  I difference. 

And now, to copy, paste and post.  Please don’t be shy with a comment.  Especially now.  The seasons are changing again.  

A fantastic opening!  Thank you to Cynthia, the gallery manager, for all her hard work, and to Marcella Hackbardt, the juror, for her vision and selections.  It is a pleasure to share gallery space with so many talented Ohio artists.  Both Conflation 1 and 6 will be on exhibit until September 4th, 2009.  Conflation 6 was also a recipient of a Merit Award.  

Click here to read the Ashland University award press release.  

It has been 2 weeks now, since we have moved back to Ohio from Michigan.   During the last so many years living elsewhere, the notion of moving “back home” seemed extremely unlikely, for the thought put a pit in my stomach.  The ardent link we create, between our sense of self and our literal location.  I had come so far, canoeing the waters of the Arctic, studying human behavior atop a gorgeous hill in Gambier, hours upon hours in a darkroom with middle-schoolers in Colorado, sleeping in tipis on the Washington Coast, attending graduate school in Oregon.    

 My husband, pregnant belly, and I, inched our way, the last few years “back home.”  We are closer to family, him to work- and as of today, I release this struggle of defining the selves that have lived here before.  This is our home now.  And this home has never existed before. 

 We walked in a meadow yesterday.  Our pup, tongue out, ran in circle upon circle.  We passed trees.  We didn’t talk much.  Brian told me he had never been there before.  I was surprised. Though I had been there, many times before, I think for the first time, I came to notice how beautiful it is.

 I look forward to discovering more in what I find familiar.  

I have recently uploaded my most recent photographic series, "Quiet."  I would appreciate any thoughts, questions, or comments.  Please post below.  

Thanks much, and enjoy spring (and I still am somewhat saddened that dandelions are weeds).

Chrissy

A dear friend, and talented poet, Onna Solomon, recently released a ten copy edition of her work, titled The Idea of Water.  I am honored to have provided the image cover, and cover design of this book.  While at Emerson, Onna studied under poet, Bill Knott.  He had always loved her work, and many years later offered to fund this book project.  

Onna's words, to me, create both virtual imagery, and playful movement within such "scenes." Her poems do not stand still, rather, through her subtle use of repetition, and raw honesty, we agree to accompany her on a conversational journey.  Interactions of objects with people, parts with wholes, our bodies with the soul.  

I lied.  I am not poor at love--I ache

for love common as weeds, it's all I can do--

                          Let's begin again.

I lied.  I am not poor at love--hurried,

I ache, it's all I can do--

                          No, neither that or the other--

from the start, I wanted you, standing in

the doorframe, where behind you irises grew

common as weeds, their purple goblets

deceptive, empty; behind me, the party

before you came in and drained glass after glass--

Really. Am I making all this up? And our dance

that night--now who is lying and where and with whom?

-excerpt from Four Love Poems, Inertia by Onna Solomon 

the photographer to her subject.

the breath of conversation in the same air that surrounds you.

sitting on sand that meets the eye and the ocean.

skin on skin, the tactile, without hands. 

I have never been one for extreme “control,” nor do I believe I am perceived as such (i.e. piles of laundry on floor, estimating recipe amounts).  Most of my lackadaisical tendencies go comfortably unnoticed, and this is nowhere near problematic, for this is who I am, how I am.  Though, with digital camera in hand, I compute, figure,  step back, squint, imagine, ISO, shutter, depth of field, focus,  another step back, knobs, dials, buttons, wait, release.  There have been numerous occasions, wherein,  the “image” is gone by the time I figure my settings are right. 

…and then, what happens to spontaneity? 

I have recently gone back to film—where most of us started, and I have chosen to work with a Holga.  Now, let the pendulum swing, totally, until it slows, and sits, on the OTHER side.  This is precisely the difference of experience in working with a DSLR and a Holga.  My options are cloudy or sunny, near or far.  All the works lies before one shot is taken- film speed, taping the batteries (oh, and this is a must).  Another challenge is at work here- having virtually no control.  This engages my muses. 

In reference to the Polaroid, a recent New York Times article terms the prints, “accidental masterpieces,” similar to what you would expect with a Holga.   I am quite sure they are not so accidental- the photographer visually choosing a particular image to shoot is nowhere near an accident. Whether a Polaroid land camera, or a forty-dollar plastic point and shoot, we are not working with flukes or fate- we are working with differing technologies, varying degrees of control. 

Whatever the “effect,” the photograph is the unification of our waking self with perceived reality.  Regardless of what brings an image to life, the photograph, is emblematic--thousands of manifestations of the artist herself. Under close examination, the images of Arbus and Kertesz, in particular, are thought to be personal prophecies, premonitions of their own fate. 

“I have a vision of life and I try to find equivalents for it sometimes in the form of photographs.” –Stieglez

Equivalents.  Yes.