A Bit of Green Glass - Genealogical Artifact Piece

A Bit of Green Glass

            In the summer of 1996 I was five years old.  At that age a kid has little or no independence.  I was therefore obligated, along with my brother and (at the time) two sisters to accompany Mom on errands and other outings during the summer.  I do not mean to say that we were forced.  Circumstances just necessitated such an arrangement.  I’m sure that our mother was much more bothered by it than we were.  Four children under the age of eight cannot be easy to load into a car and shepherd through a grocery store.  Bless her for her efforts.

            After one of these afternoons out and about we stopped by my Dad’s parents’ place for a visit, as it was not far from home.  Now, I can think of few places better suited for energetic, curious little boys than a large, shaded backyard at Grandpa’s house.  My little brother, Jake (age three at the time) and I, as soon as we had hugged Grandma and Grandpa, scurried off into the backyard to find something fun to do.  We found, near the edge of the garden, two shovels with broken shafts.  These shovels were now the right size for a couple of little guys like us.  We eagerly grabbed them and scanned the area for a bare patch of dirt to dig up.     

            The edge of the garden was a perfectly suitable site for our excavation.  We set about immediately scooping up the dry earth.  It was not long at all before I made the fateful discovery.  A glint of green caught my eye, whether in the bottom of the hole or the dirt in my shovel I no longer recall.  However, I do remember that as soon as I saw it, the dig was over.  I had found treasure!  At least, to my six-year-old eyes, the bottom of a green glass bottle appeared to be treasure.  I couldn’t read what was written on the bottom, so I immediately assumed it was some ancient pirate inscription.  Quickly I hypothesized that in the olden days when the ocean covered Utah Valley, a pirate ship had floated exactly over the site of my Grandparents’ house and a careless (possibly drunk) pirate had dropped his bottle of rum over the side of the ship into the water, where it sank to its rest on the ocean floor. 

            Grandma and Grandpa were quite entertained by my explanation for the green glass piece.  Then my mother did something that changed my life.  She purchased a blank cassette tape for me and showed me how to record my voice.  She then let me loose, telling me to record my story of the treasure and anything else that came to my head.  As a little boy, I had nothing really interesting to say.  However, my interest in recording had begun.  From that interest in voice recording sprang my interest in video.   That interest has become a hobby, then an obsession, and now a college major.  And a bit of green glass helped it all get started.

Artist’s Statement

           

            The story of finding the green glass in Grandpa’s garden is a bit of a legend in my family now.  I still have the thing stored away in a box at home.  I don’t have a photo of it, but I found one online that looks like it.

            The significance of the story is, of course, NOT the discovery of an item of great worth.  I realized as a five-year-old that a piece of glass was not possibly pirate treasure, but it was certainly fun to invent a story.  My limited knowledge of history left me with enough uncertainty that I could almost convince myself that my invented tale was true.  This was an outlet for my budding creativity.  My mom probably didn’t realize what a good idea she had when she provided me with an outlet for my ramblings and thoughts.  The tape she gave me is still intact at my house.  I listened to it with my parents when I was eighteen, at least a decade since I had last played it.  It’s no masterpiece.  I was no prodigy journalist or storyteller, but it is so nice to be able to hear what I sounded like!  I really just rambled, repeating a lot of the same ideas and phrases over and over.  But it was a starting point.

            My tape, which my mom entitled, “When I Found Treasure”, bears little significance to anybody outside my circle of immediate family.  However it and the “treasure” that inspired it are extremely significant to me.

            I chose to write the story using somewhat more sophisticated, “grown-up” language than in previous works for this class.  I suppose this suggests that I do no longer write as a child, though I remember the feelings of being one.  Hopefully the tone of the piece is not overly nostalgic.   The significance of the story lies, not in the remembering the “good old days of childhood”, but rather the impact of seemingly small objects and events on future choices and aspirations.

            I called my mom and asked her to read the piece.  She had little to say other than that she was rather amazed at some of the details I remembered.  She recalled with fondness my grandparents' reaction the day I found my "treasure".  It is always good to relive some memories from childhood with my mother, who was present for a lot of what I did.

A Package for Jimmy - Process Piece (Nate C. and Josh R.)

Follow this link: A Package for Jimmy to listen to our audio interpretation/documentation of the process of packing a box for shipment.  Enjoy!

Artist's Statement

The process demonstrated in this audio clip is that of packing a box.  We chose this process because we determined that it would be a compelling auditory experience.  There are many sounds involved in the process that are identifiable as specifically related to making a package, like the sound of packing peanuts, and the sound of a tape gun. Since we didn’t have the advantage of a visual depiction, like many of the examples given in the viewings, we wanted to compile these sounds into a narrative, and give a back-story to the package being constructed, so we included two characters, who are packaging something valuable.  We also wanted to be careful that their commentary didn’t overpower the sounds of the process, but give it clarity, and also inform the listener to what exactly was occurring.  In this way the listener can be sure of what is going on in the clip at all times, despite the lack of visual cues.

This process is actually rather important.  Think of the countless objects that must be packaged and sent to different locations, whether it is somewhere else in the state, to an entirely different country.  The journeys, in all their varieties, can be rough and tumble, and the cares we take to protect the objects will only benefit us in the end.  “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” is especially true when it comes to sending packages, and we wanted to illustrate this in our process.  There are probably people who understand the basic concept behind bubble wrap, or packing peanuts, yet have never made up a package in their life, since there are entire stores devoted to doing so, and our piece gives attention to this important, and often over-looked process. 

That’s the power behind this type of documentation, is that it can highlight important processes that are under appreciated.  Often we are so concerned about the end product, but like the clip of the factory in China that we watched, it’s good to step back and realize what happens behind the scenes to give us the things that we use in our every day lives. There are many who play a part in making our lives and the comforts we enjoy possible, and this is a way to acknowledge them, and their contributions to society.  So hopefully our somewhat facetious piece can convey some of that depth and meaning.  

Thick Description - A True Family Room

A True Family Room

            If Grandma and Grandpa ever replace the burnt-orange shag carpet in here, I fear I shall no longer recognize the place.  This carpet has been the stage on which so many of my life’s memories have played out.  It is here that my cousins and I played as babies while our young parents watched and giggled on a Sunday afternoon.  It is on this carpet that countless crumbs have fallen from the mouth or plate of a clumsy grandchild as they sit cross-legged eating from a paper plate that teeters on the edge of the low glass table.  In more recent years, these spills have been thoroughly “vacuumed” by my Uncle John’s west inland terriers Ikea and Cinco.  At this moment the two dogs are calmly pacing the floor at my feet.  They occasionally come to me looking for a handout of some kind, having inspected the carpet already.

            The carpet is not the only physical reminder of family gatherings, nor is it the only design element that hearkens back to the 1980s.  A mild coral-colored wallpaper wraps itself around the room, with small blue and muted-red flower stencils in neat rows.  The drapes over the bay windows in the corner give the space an added elegance, especially in the evening when they diffuse the setting sun’s golden light over the room.  Situated in the corner is Grandma’s baby grand piano.  This instrument is a focal point of many family gatherings.  Many family members play and compose music, and we all sing.  At Christmastime we gather to re-create the nativity scene, with each grandchild being assigned a part.  Besides the traditional characters we take turns portraying cud-chewing oxen (the cud chewing is mandatory), the bright, smiling star of Bethlehem, and, with a little teamwork, the stable. 

            This space is a place for our individual stories to intertwine.  This frequent crossing of our paths has kept us all close.  Whether we gather to celebrate New Years Day, watch a football game or simply visit on a quiet Sunday afternoon, this room is our common link.  It is where we savor old memories and create new ones. 

            Now I sit here alone at night.  The piano makes no sound with nobody to play it.  The chairs and sofas sit vacant and undisturbed.  The carpet, as mentioned before, is free of crumbs.  There are no sounds of laughter or conversation.  However, just being here evokes in me feelings of familiarity and peace.  It is like a Temple, dedicated to the unity of our family.  I suppose that description may sound a bit odd, I mean, whoever heard of a Temple with burnt-orange shag carpet?

Artist’s Statement

At the beginning of this semester I moved in with my grandparents in order to be closer to campus.  I have begun to see the house in a more practical and functional way than I did as a young kid.  I have gotten familiar with spaces like the laundry room and the guest bathroom, hardly setting foot in the living room.  I pass it every day on the way to the kitchen, but never linger there.  I guess it could be because I’m busy and don’t have time to stop.

I did not need to puzzle long about why the living room is so special to me.  There is nothing mysterious about it, and my approach in my paper may be painfully obvious.  I associate the space and objects within it very strongly with the people I love.  The shag carpet is much older than I am, but its presence, however aesthetically outdated, is comforting and familiar to me.  The piano has been the scene of many “recitals” by grandkids eager to please Grandma.  Of course, Grandma has always been delighted to see her grandkids play.  These memories of these sorts of interactions hang thick in the air.

While sitting and observing the room, I could fill the room with people in my mind.  Uncle Steve walked across from the entryway to the kitchen.  Grandma and Grandpa sat on the loveseat, while Dad slept on the recliner.  Mom took her usual place at the piano bench, finishing each song with her signature flourish, much to the delight of all who are listening for it.  Cousin Jason and I huddled on the couch in bathrobes as our clothes dried after a rainy football game.  Aunt Johanne prepared the costumes for the nativity.  Every memory I have here is of family togetherness, and that is what makes it so unique and even sacred to me.  

Music Mosaic - "A New Life"

   Music evokes strong emotions in listeners. Guided by a melody, the imagination can create entire worlds instantly.  Some of these small bursts of imagery are as complex and fleeting as dreams. It is nearly impossible to retain them in one’s mind over time.  For this week’s assignment I tried to mentally capture these images as they came and quickly write them down.  This exercise helped me not to waste the product of my instinctive creativity.

   Burkhard Dallwitz's "A New Life" (listen in here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=REISCYUUKEQ) created specific imagery in my mind as I listened to it with closed eyes.  My mind envisioned a wide valley bordered on both sides by blue hills, with two full moons visible; each one nestled in the sky on opposite sides of the valley.  While I did not re-create this exact image as part of my mosaic, some basic elements of this image guided the work as a whole. The idea of symmetry suggested by the valley with two moons was something I wanted to maintain.  However, instead of a valley I decided to mimic the steady rise of the music’s intensity with lines that would rise to an apex and end abruptly, just as the song does.  This decision gave me a unifying visual frame in which to insert the fragments of my vision. 

   Three images on each side of the frame all feature sloping lines that draw the eye upward and to the center where the two sides meet at a central point, the moon.  The upward movement is accompanied by an increasingly energetic set of images.  At the base are the silent mountains.  Moving up, we encounter a living plant, a person, and power lines.  The images of the reaching hands were created with single flash bursts to give bright highlights and strong contrast.  The song ends quickly after its climax.  It is a constant rise with little or no falling action.  When “A New Life” ends, it comes as a sudden leap or fall at the end of a long rise.  After reaching the moon, the eye is no longer being guided and is free to roam, exploring the rest of the image or leaving altogether.  The water beneath the moon suggests a place to land should the eye fall after its exhausting upward climb. 

   During the past week our class read that story is about relationships.  What can this simple rising image tell us about relationships?  I think all relationships have their climax moments; those moments where you have reached the point where your support drops out from under you and you either fly or fall. 

   “A New Life” doesn’t tell a complete story, necessarily.  Rather, it is the beginning of a story.  Fittingly, this music plays over the closing credits of “The Truman Show”.  The film ends much the way the music does, with a step into the unknown.  The resolution is still to come.

-Nate