Show And Tell

For my birthday last year, a friend of mine got me a book called Listening Is An Act of Love. The book is from a project called StoryCorps- "the largest oral history project in the nation". StoryCorps collects stories of everyday Americans from all over by using mobile recording booths. I absolutely loved the book (I definitely recommend it!) because there are so many lessons embedded in the stories of others that you just can't get from hard journalism or textbooks or theory. StoryCorps also has a website where you can listen to some featured stories....although the project isn't a product of journalism, I chose it as my show and tell because I'm very fond of the idea that everyone's story is important and worth listening to:



http://storycorps.org/topics/staff-picks/

(My favorite one is the fourth one down).

Week 8 Reading Response

I could not put this book down. “The Events of October” transported me to Kalamazoo College circa 1999, and I was completely engrossed in the story surrounding the murder of Maggie and the Neenef’s suicide. I live in DeWaters, and I read most of the book in my room.... I cannot explain how eerie it was to read the book and imagine the events unfolding in my own building. It was bizarre because I felt like the campus Gail described was exactly like how it is now, but somehow placed in an alternate universe. I also wonder, how come I had never heard this story before? Is “The Events of October” the only way Maggie and Neenef’s story is shared?  Or maybe as a transfer student I missed some commemorative event in the Fall.

In one of the appendices, there is a list of all the people Gail interviewed. There are easily at least twenty people on that list. Gail’s approach to writing this book reflects everything we have read and what Marin has told us about narrative journalism. Gail incorporated details, such as Maggie’s favorite type of vodka that really made me feel like I knew Maggie and Neenef. Yet, not only did I know Maggie and Neenef, but I also knew Maggie and Neenef’s family and friends. I could easily understand the frustrations and hesitations felt by Maggie’s friends in expressing their views on the relationship, as well as Neenef’s friends’ conflicted feelings about Neenef after the event occurred. 

I thought the IM conversations between Neenef and Maggie most intensely highlighted the abusive nature of their relationship. Having that explicit documentation showed the power dynamics underlying their communication, and it also showed emotions Maggie could not have expressed to her family or friends about Neenef. Furthermore, it showed how trapped Neenef made Maggie feel, and how separating from him was nearly impossible.

I thought Gail did a phenomenal job in including educational statistics on femicide and domestic abuse. I was shocked by the facts and the ensuing analyses, and I want all of my friends and family to read this book. I thought the most disturbing piece of data was that it is during the immediate months after leaving an abusive relationship where women are most unsafe.

I’m really excited to hear from Gail how she pieced this book together and the process that went into it—I also wonder how difficult it was for her to separate herself from the story.

David Elhart Profile

Paula Dallacqua

Narrative Journalism

Profile

Don’t Judge An Artist By His Paintings

Intended Publication: The Index

David Elhart’s studio is a mess that is confined to his basement, which is not impervious to the distractions of the rest of the house, such as the barking of his dogs, Frank and Jesse. His work table is the size of a school desk and is cluttered with pens and stencils. Paintings are scattered in every direction, making the small space palpitate with color. Tools of logic, such as rulers, seem out of place in a room that looks like it regularly struggles to reign in David’s creativity. He apologizes for the mess and calls any person who ventures into his studio courageous. 

He admits his studio is particularly disorganized because he is in the process of getting thirty pieces ready for an upcoming show in Three Rivers. He’s not excited about the show, however, because he dislikes the people who generally attend art shows, “Quite a few of them are there for the wine. The more they drink, the more they think they know about art.” He grimaces at the thought of the alcoholic stink of their breath, but reasons that it is nice to sell pieces because, “It helps me pay for my habit.”

His habit. David does not see art as his job because he has never used it to support himself. Yet, art cannot simply be David’s habit. Art is the bridge from his logical mind to his innovative soul. He says, “I enjoy doing what I’m doing so much because I’m discovering.” One can be thankful for the gift of David’s discovering. It is rare that personal discovery leads to such remarkable creations, such as his painting “Sleeping Wave”.

“Sleeping Wave” exemplifies David’s flamboyant style. A bright yellow sun is set against a sky blue background, while two shapes that appear to be icebergs imperfectly mirror one another. A small ship with 3 tiered sails hides to the right of the far iceberg, and puffs of clouds are depicted as bars of white. Even though the viewer immediately recognizes the typical scene, the jolting geometry calls for a longer look. The viewer then notices the sun melting down the canvas by means of various reflections, the asymmetrical relation between shapes, and the perfectly straight lines within the icebergs that are angled out like sun rays.

Indeed, David’s work is an intriguing balance of technical art and the fine arts—he attributes the mix to his past work, which involved him being very precise. He thinks his technicality adds to the story telling capability of his artwork. David’s favorite types of stories to tell are about things that reflect memory. With a sense of awe in his voice, he describes staring at the deserted paper mill in Vicksburg and wanting to ask it, “Please, tell me what went on here...even though the building can’t talk. The older [the building] the better.”

Or on a trip to Ellis Island, when he became wrapped up in the emotional experiences preserved in the location. He speaks quickly as he thinks about the memories it holds, seeing them as still vital because they are “trapped in the walls of the building”. His face lights up during his recollection, much like the face of a little kid who has just discovered a secret shortcut.

In addition to playing with vivid colors and grand shapes, David manipulates texture. He particularly likes taking paint rollers and gauging pieces out of them in order to create spongy layers. He never uses an easel and opts to work on a flat surface so the paint remains stationary. A substantial factor in the creation of his art is his need to control. Elements, such as wayward clouds, which appear to be random, are actually painstakingly placed in order to communicate exactly what David wants to say.

Well, exactly what he wants to say, except for his political views. David explains that he keeps his political ideology completely out of or hidden within his art because people do not like messages in the paintings they hang in their livings rooms or see at coffee shops and restaurants. “I don’t set out to be political. I set out to create another place. Unless you read the titles, you might not even know.” For example, his painting, titled “Venus Barrier Sustained Biosphere”, is a commentary on current environmental practices. David explains it as “We think we can just go live in Venus after we destroy the Earth.” The actual painting, however, does not betray his true feelings. It simply looks like a barrage of colors and shapes. An attack of reds and oranges and browns.

The painting embodies David’s signature style—his rambunctious interpretation of pop art. “I’ve got a very busy mind,” he says, “I put it into my paintings.” By using acrylics, fixative, and varnish, he can separate colors and paint one over the other, thereby creating the shocks of pigment that characterize his art. He warns the oil has to go over the acrylic and not the other way around or else paint will chip everywhere. David also does a lot of work with oil based pens. The pens are pricey, but the pigmentation is well worth their cost.

While talking about his art, he repeats the theme that it’s not from a deep, philosophical message. He says the endpoint is to have fun. “I kind of paint blindly”—he explains that nothing about his art is pre-planned, and it’s more of a sum of his thoughts. He also speaks about his age, “People who don’t know me anticipate a younger person.” David, however, is a man in his late sixties, who works in light-wash jeans splattered with paint, Champion sweatshirts, baseball caps, and sandals with socks. His full beard and antiquated glasses complete the look, which is reminiscent of a grandfather.

Perhaps it is the cartoonish character of his paintings that lead people to believe the artist must be young. Or maybe David’s youthful exuberance seeps into his work. Yet David’s liveliness is equally matched by his matter-of-factness, which is also reflected in his work’s precise construction. His choice to not use his art as a vehicle for his radicalism reflects his rationality, “Here in the Midwest if you want to sell anything you got to be a bit more conservative.” But, David has never made his living off art. It was only when he retired four years ago that he allowed himself to be dedicated to his art. He had taken a few art classes at the University of Iowa and received training at the Layton School of Art in Milwaukee, but his art had to wait out of necessity. It was a practical decision that came down to having to pay the bills, “I needed to eat and being an artist wasn’t going to get it,” he explains. Instead of pursuing art, David worked in pharmacological research for forty years, specializing in animal welfare. He also taught and wrote for twenty years. Although he’s retired, he mentions possibly teaching at Kalamazoo Valley Community College in the future. His life goal, after all, “is to drive my wife crazy”.

But, David also admits, “I’d be lost without my wife.”  David has been married for 46 years to Rose, which is apparent in the way she can immediately correct him when his recollection of dates and times aren’t entirely accurate. Rose provides the balance David needs to function by remembering all the things that seem to escape his memory. When asked what her job description is, she says, “I keep him [David] in line.” Rose fills in the gaps in David’s narrative, correcting him when he forgets or adds a year to his life’s timeline.

Rose provides a necessary structure to David—in fact, her lack of presence may be the reason for his studio’s chaotic nature. Or maybe David’s creative energy had been building while he worked, and since his retirement, it cannot be contained. Either way, the explosion of paint and stencils and rulers and brushes found in David’s studio are all in good use—One can even be thankful for the mess. It is rare that disorder leads to such remarkable creations. 

Story Pitch

I’ve got a lot of ideas bouncing around in my head and I don’t know which one to choose!

I’ve thought about picking four of the eight Frank Lloyd Wright homes in Kalamazoo County and writing about them, but I only know surface level things about Frank Lloyd Wright so I think that’s going to be the first idea to go...But then again, it would be cool to do some research about him and why he designed homes in Kalamazoo.

            Or, according to http://www.kalamazoomi.com/hisf.htm, “The Ladies Library Association building, built in 1879, was the first to house a women’s club in the nation. This was even prior to the time women could be property owners or vote.” I bet there’s so much history to uncover within that building, and so many incredible women that left legacies.

            Or, I could go back to my original profile pitch, and do a profile on 4^th Coast, and why the owner wanted to open an overnight haven for the homeless population of Kalamazoo.

            Or, when I was at the gas station, a woman came up to me and gave me a flyer for a Christian Detailing shop that also sells women’s clothing, which just sounds bizarre to me.

Any thoughts? 

Reading Response Week 7

In our reading for this week, I picked up on a few themes that I found particularly helpful:

1.) Kelley Benham and Adam Hochschild both wrote about the importance of dialogue in their sections. Benham says, “Dialogue is easier for people to read than straight narrative, because that’s how we listen to the world and how we communicate” (105). In revising my profile with David, I took myself out of the piece because I wanted there to be a greater focus on David. When I did that, however, I felt like the piece lost a lot of David’s character because the dialogue I had with him was so telling. I understand that profiles are a different genre of writing though, and hopefully the other details I incorporated made up for the withdrawal of dialogue.

2.) Jon Franklin’s concept of the three layers of the narrative is new to me. I’ve heard of the factual and emotional layers, but I’ve never heard of the rhythm of the piece being its own layer. I liked how Franklin used the triune brain theory to explain it—it really hit his point home how all three layers are necessary for a reader to connect with a story.  In thinking about how I feel when I read, I definitely am like the reader Franklin describes, “Readers read very fast, seeing none of the layers. They simply feel it, as you feel a highway while traveling over it.” I feel like rhythm is an intrinsic part of a writer’s style and can be developed only through practice.

3.) I think Louise Kiernan’s advice will be beneficial in our upcoming assignment. Kiernan talks about the difference between public and private documents, and how they’re useful in writing a complicated piece. Public documents include: court records, police reports, government studies, etc. Kiernan gives two links for advice on how to file Freedom of Information Act and search court records (www.ire.org and www.poynter.org). Kiernan also points to who to choose as someone that can help with technical parts of a story, “People with passions, whether for comic books or nuclear fission, tend to be good teachers” (147). I know that the more knowledgeable I feel about a topic, the easier it is to write about it—like with my piece on David, as soon I knew how he painted his art, the easier it was for me to describe it.

 Lastly, I felt that there was an underlying theme of treating writing as if you’re filming. We’ve talked about some filming analogies in class, but I like how we read about it again because it was a good reminder to incorporate it into my writing. Good writing means knowing when to zoom in and pan out, when to move through a scene quickly, and when to slow down. I think treating writing like filming involves a great sense of control over the direction of the piece, which I think comes from outlining and multiple drafts.  

Revised Profile

Don’t Judge An Artist By His Paintings

Intended Publication: The Index

David Elhart gives a clear and early warning about his political views, “Just don’t get me started on George Bush, ok?” Yet, his paintings do not espouse the passionate stances he holds so dearly to his heart. He explains that he keeps his political ideology completely out of or hidden within his art because people do not like messages in the paintings they hang in their livings rooms or see at coffee shops and restaurants. “I don’t set out to be political. I set out to create another place. Unless you read the titles, you might not even know.” For example, his painting, titled “Venus Barrier Sustained Biosphere” is a commentary on current environmental practices. David explains it as “We can go live in Venus after we destroy the Earth.” The actual painting, however, does not betray his true feelings. It simply looks like a barrage of colors and shapes. An attack of reds and oranges and browns.

The painting embodies David’s signature style—his rambunctious interpretation of pop art. “I’ve got a very busy mind,” he says, “I put it into my paintings.” He uses acrylics, fixative, and varnish in order to separate colors and paint one color over the other. He warns the oil has to go over the acrylic and not the other way around or else paint will chip everywhere.  He also does a lot of work with oil based pens. The pens are pricey, but he says the pigmentation is well worth their cost.

In addition to playing with vivid colors and grand shapes, David manipulates texture. He particularly likes taking paint rollers and gauging pieces out of them in order to create spongy layers. He never uses an easel and opts to work on a flat surface so the paint remains stationary. A substantial factor in the creation of his art is his need to control. Elements, such as wayward clouds, which appear to be random, are actually painstakingly placed in order to communicate exactly what David wants to say.

While continuing to talk about his art, he repeats the theme that it’s not from a deep, philosophical message. He says the endpoint is to have fun. “I kind of paint blindly”—he explains that nothing about his art is pre-planned, and it’s more of a sum of his thoughts.

He also speaks about his age, “People who don’t know me anticipate a younger person.” The artist, however, is a man in his late sixties, who works in light-wash jeans splattered with paint, Champion sweatshirts, baseball caps, and sandals with socks. His full beard and antiquated glasses complete the look, which is reminiscent of a grandfather.

Perhaps it is the cartoonish character of David’s paintings that lead people to believe the artist must be young. His flamboyant style is exemplified in his piece “Sleeping Wave” in which a sun is set against a sky blue background, while two shapes that appear to be icebergs imperfectly mirror one another. A small ship with 3 tiered sails hides to the right of the far iceberg, and puffs of clouds are depicted with bars of white. Although a seemingly simple design, David uses bright yellows and blues with hints of orange and brown as well as thick outlines of black to sharply demarcate the various shapes, causing the viewer to stop and try to figure out what he/she is seeing. Even though the viewer immediately recognizes the typical scene, the jolting geometry calls for a longer look. The viewer then notices the sun melting down the canvas by means of various reflections, the asymmetrical relation between shapes, and the perfectly straight lines within the icebergs that are angled out like sun rays.

Indeed, David’s work is an intriguing balance of technical art and the fine arts—he attributes the mix to his past work, which involved him being very precise. He thinks his technicality adds to the story telling capability of his artwork. David’s favorite types of stories to tell are about things that reflect memory. With a sense of awe in his voice, he describes staring at the deserted paper mill in Vicksburg and wanting to ask it, “Please, tell me what went on here...even though the building can’t talk. The older [the building] the better.”

Or on a trip to Ellis Island, when he became wrapped up in the emotional experiences preserved in the location. He speaks quickly as he thinks about the memories it holds, seeing them as alive and vital because they are “trapped in the walls of the building”. His face lights up during his recollection, much like the face of a little kid who has just discovered a secret shortcut.

David’s youthful exuberance complements his pervasive pragmatism. His choice to not use his art as a vehicle for his radicalism reflects his sensibility, “Here in the Midwest if you want to sell anything you got to be a bit more conservative.” But, David has never made his living off art. He worked in pharmacological research for forty years before he devoted himself to painting. He had taken a few art classes at the University of Iowa and received training at the Layton School of Art in Milwaukee, but his art had to wait out of necessity. It was a practical decision that came down to having to pay the bills, “I needed to eat and being an artist wasn’t going to get it,” he explains. So David received his Associate’s Degree from Milwaukee Technical College and his Bachelor’s Degree from the University of Wisconsin. Thanks to the G.I. Bill that he earned while serving in the Vietnam War, he moved to Iowa in ’74 and simultaneously worked and studied at the University of Iowa. He then went on to work at Lakeside Labs, which was the ethical research arm of Colgate Palmolive. He specialized in animal welfare and also taught for twenty years. Although he retired four years ago, he mentions possibly teaching at Kalamazoo Valley Community College in the future.

Through his work in research, David got to travel to Japan in 1991 for one month and again in 2001 and 2006. He went to learn the methods they use in their research, but mostly comments on the culture, “Japan is like one large extended family. They’re very community oriented” and “Japan is so clean...the people are so courteous”. Many of the paintings found in his basement studio include themes of Japanese culture and Japanese characters, which he loves to use. He says, “I translate the Japanese right of the Google.” Although David speaks fondly of Japan, he would never move there because all his family is in Michigan.

It is apparent that family is central to David. He has been married for 46 years to his wife, Rose, and has two kids, Julie and Andy. He painted the door leading to his studio with his grandson, one of the two kids of the younger generation who has shown an interest in art. He says, “I have a history of art in my family.” His uncle was head of the art department at Michigan State University, and at the turn of the twentieth century, his great-aunt started Oxbow, an art camp run by the Art Institute of Chicago. Every summer, they “took the clipper” from the University of Wisconsin and spent the summer doing art in Oxbow. He also had a great-aunt who worked for a publishing company in New York City. “I come from a family of kickass women,” he says.

Considering his family history, his choice to marry a strong woman makes sense. Rose was not keen on the idea of an individual interview, but her personality is clear through her interactions with David and his descriptions of her. David admits, “I’d be lost without my wife.” Rose provides the balance David needs to function by remembering all the dates and places and logistics that seem to escape his memory. When asked what her job description is, she says, “I keep him [David] in line.” Rose fills in the gaps in David’s narrative, correcting him when he forgets or adds a year to his life’s timeline. She provides a necessary structure to David. When talking about his work ethic, David says, “I’m certainly addicted [to painting]. I stayed up all night last night. Rose gets so mad at me when I do that.” Given the organization that Rose provides, it is possible that the lack of her presence in David’s studio is the reason for its chaotic nature.

His studio is a mess that is confined to the basement, which is not impervious to the distractions of the rest of the house, such as the barking of his dogs, Frank and Jesse. His work table is the size of a school desk and is cluttered with pens and stencils. Paintings are scattered in every direction, making the small space palpitate with color. Tools of logic, such as rulers, seem out of place in a room that looks like it regularly struggles to reign in David’s creativity. He apologizes for the mess and calls any person who ventures into his studio courageous. 

He admits his studio is particularly disorganized because he is in the process of getting thirty pieces ready for an upcoming show in Three Rivers. He’s not excited about the show, however, because he dislikes the people who generally attend art shows, “Quite a few of them are there for the wine. The more they drink, the more they think they know about art.” He grimaces at the thought of the alcoholic stink of their breath, but reasons that it is nice to sell pieces because, “It helps me pay for my habit.”

His habit. David does not see art as his job because he has never used it to support himself. Yet, art cannot simply be David’s habit. Art is the bridge from his logical mind to his innovative soul. He says, “I enjoy doing what I’m doing so much because I’m discovering.” One can be thankful for the gift of David’s discoveries. It is rare that personal discovery leads to such remarkable creations.