Happy Pulaski Day!
Not only does ArtPrize begin its final weekend, but today is the start of Grand Rapids Pulaski days, a celebration of both a revolutionary war hero in General Washington's army and of Polish-American heritage. Beer and pierogies abound and on Sunday there is a 'polka mass.'
Back to the fish ladder I mentioned in my last post: I envisioned a tacky wooden ladder carved into the shape of a fish, painted in blues and greens. Doug took us to Grand Rapids' fish ladder, which was created next to a dam for salmon to swim upstream and spawn. It brought to mind what the leader of the artists' seminar said with regard to resting when you are approaching burn out: "Sure a salmon swims upstream, but not for its whole life."
Yesterday, I met with a group of students who helped create some of the plastic pieces. One student was grumpy because she thought I should have won the Nobel prize. Another was holding a bottle ready to add it to the tree. Every time I reached out to assist him he lovingly took hold of my hand and gazed sweetly into my eyes. We finally snapped it into place though, his hand over mine.
Last night, the final awards were presented. The first prize winner is Mia Tavonatti for a stunning glass mosaic altarpiece titled "The Crucifixion." Mia stopped by and chatted when ArtPrize first started and told me that she was glad the trees were big and bold and drawing crowds down our way. Last night as we watched the news coverage announcing the winner, I joked that it was too bad the other contenders were so far away from my forest or they might have taken first.
It is interesting how much conversation there is here with regard to the winners. Part of the artistic community is outraged while the man-on-the-street is confused by some of the juried awards. One thing that is for sure, a whole lot of people are out looking and talking about art.
I'll close with this installation, part of the permanent collection at the Urban Institute of Contemporary Art where my seminar was held. It is made of a variety of lottery tickets.
For the record, people rarely realize that 