Maine Media MFA-A Bust

Arno's Last Shot

Not going back to Maine Media MFA and might not attend anymore workshops there. One student canidate offended me by saying the program wasn’t for me. I protested, the program, at least the program described in the materials, was for me; the one which I audited, which the person attended, without, of course, presenting any work, wasn’t. Bummer.

The last night, the members of the program went out to celebrate at a bar. Seemed like more of a ritual than a festivity. Word got back that three members of the faculty had quit. Not a good thing to happen while you await accreditation. Who remains on the teaching staff, I don’t know, but the three who left seemed to be among the most accomplished.

Jan Promoted Workshops

I waited around too long. Should have left after the academic discussion during which it became apparent few had read the assignment and, if anyone did, they weren’t, except for one or two, among the people who spoke. I am not sure the faculty member who led the discussion understood the writing; he was more interested in talking about himself and the poetry part or the reading, which we never got to because he didn’t facilitate much. Only reason I stayed was to touch the faculty. Not worth the effort.

So, Arno quit. I met with him. Asked what he would bring to me if I attended, he said, “I would give you honesty.” He didn’t tell me he would be leaving. I met with Elizabeth. She told me she didn’t see the things I saw in my pictures. She cut off the interview in mid image, a serious dis, to talk to someone else. She didn’t want to download a study I had done into her Lightroom. She was completely dismissive and negative. I posited a few ideas for academic study which I didn’t have properly translated into MFA speak. Those are undergraduate subjects, not MFA topics.” This is after a discussion during a defense of a master’s dissertation the day before where the faculty got into a discussion about whether the requirements for the paper should be relaxed, eased enough to allow for the substitution of poetry for paragraphs. And it was after people presented papers and then discussed them, asking for questions without providing copies for the group to read ahead of time, as if anyone would have read them. Elizabeth said it was because the papers were not received in time to copy.

Jan seemed interested, for a second or two. He asked me to bring some graphic design work, then never asked for it. Jan liked my work, at least some of it. He suggested that I didn’t fit into an MFA program mentality. How did he know? Never looked at my resume or asked any probing questions.

Fritz Lang at Fleming

To make a relationship work, you need to have things in common with your companion, otherwise you don’t have anything to talk about and you don’t need to be together. Sharon and I share film in common. Luckily, we both like film noir. Otherwise, we have lots of conflicting tastes. You could not guess correctly, if you tried who likes what.

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Christo at the Flemming

Christo spoke, backed by images of his and Jeanne Claude’s work. Some wept for her. “Jeanne Claude used to say, ‘we were born on the same day of separate Mothers.'” He covets the artistic process, while recognizing the politics of his craft. Not only a visionary, but he is, as Ashley Montagu would say, “a cultured man, an artist, an artist in humanity.”

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The Art of Laura K. Winterbottom and Lorin Duckman

I met Laura’s art at the SEABA office gallery during art hop. To visitors, the pictures are just some images to be liked or disliked. To her family and friends, they are her statements about life, creative outbursts that survive her; gifts that she will give in spirit. To me?

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Lance Richbourg, The Babe, and Me

My friend, artist Lance Richbourg, Professor Emeritus of Fine Art at St. Michael’s College, has been working on a picture of the Babe for several year. On three occaisons, he has taken a picture of me with his subject. He documents his progress with his work. At the same time, I age.

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Nectar’s Body Painting

Not Amsterdam, dammit.

Vermont has a reputation for being a liberal state. Don’t get all heated up. Just because VT started the civil union movement, one which should have been a no brainer, doesn’t make it the home of progressive politics. Sometimes, they let us have some fun.

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Humble Phil #2

Ageless Roth

Have to be fair. Nothing he writes could leave me unaffected, so I thought. I did remember some additional things about the story. But I still didn’t like it.

I read the book on a respite from Infinite Jest, about which more will come later. I have reached page 300 of this monstrous tome, a page of note, because I am reading more quickly and understanding what I am reading without having to reread. In the back of my head, a place readers go with books they hard read, I had traveled off the pages too often into my own experiences, real and imagined, not to mention the travail of understanding what I was reading and seeing the vivid images created by the words. Moseying around at the Fletcher Free Library, I saw two copies of Phil’s book, a book I had not bought due to the less than favorable reviews. Hey, out of sorts actor who lost his skills who has an affair with a lesbian after his wife leaves him late life who cannot figure out if he should die in the fire or put it out, and only 140 pages, what could be bad!

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AnnA Smith’s Spider Webb

Spider Webb's Triangle

Bill Nelson took me to the Vermont Bookstore on Main Street in Middlebury to look at his wife, Margaret’s (Peggy) book, Parenting Out of Control. In the stacks, limited as they now are under new management, we met a woman dressed like the characters in the books and cards she had in her hands. Very feminine. A little Gothy.

Overhearing me and Bill talking about the death of the local bookstore, a problem that caused him to drive to Burlington for a copy of “Bitch” magazine which had an article on Peggy’s book, the woman not only volunteered that she was familiar with the magazine, but that she liked to shop at Barnes and Noble, the store where Bill found it.

“Got any ink,” I asked?

“Why don’t you go to the stationary store next door,” she replied.

“I mean ink on your body.” She just looked to me like she had some images somewhere. And I take images of ordinary people with ink.

“I got a web on my arm and a triangle on my back. Its kind of old and fading; I have to have it restored. Spider Webb did it ten years ago.”

“Spider Webb in Woodstock, NY!”

“Want to see it?”