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This past week in my Mechanics of Writing class we were asked to read "The Lottery" (1948) by Shirley Jackson and then write our own stories with surprise endings. This is mine. Enjoy. 
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© Annie Fay Meitchik. All Rights Reserved. All content on anniefay.com is my own or credit is given when applicable, please do not use any of my images before contacting me above or @ anniefaymeitchik@gmail.com.
This week in my Writing for Artists class we read "I am for an Art" by Claes Oldenburg. Using his essay as inspiration, we were asked to write our own manifestos about the kinds of art we would like to see and create in the world using a mixture of abstract and concrete imagery. We were also encouraged to provide examples of our art—videos, photos, paintings, or dance.
This is what I created. Enjoy!!
This is what I created. Enjoy!!
I am for art...
#1: I am for art you can check out of libraries—worn pages, free inspiration, riveting stories, and calls to action.
#2: I am for art that gets buried underground, only to sprout up in the spring.
#3: I am for art that hugs your fingers and decorates your hands with copper, gold, silver, and stone.
#4: I am for art that turns your fingernails purple, blue, yellow, pink, and orange.
#5: I am for art that reflects your face; mirrors, puddles, and polished elevators.
#6: I am for art that zooms past you underground, blowing air as it comes to a halt.
#7: I am for artists that explore make believe worlds and invent imaginary people.
#8: I am for the art that is interactive—art where people can write their own messages on walls, attach locks to chain link fences, or throw coins into fountains.
#9: I am for the artist that defies logic—24 hour films that test human psychology and our inability to avoid constructing a story out of unrelated events.
#10: I am for the artists that empower girls.
#11: I am for the artists that make me laugh.
#12: I am for an art that dips string in buckets of soap and lets the wind make translucent, hollow, rainbow spheres in the sky.
#13: I am for art that uses every color of the rainbow.
#14: I am for an art that you control with black and white keys.
#15: I am for art that transcends through car speakers to vibrate your core.
#16: I am for the art of driving an extra lap around the block to hear the end of a good song.
#17: I am for an art that starts out as words on a page and turns into drawings.
#18: I am for art that winds up on homework assignments, to do lists, and lecture notes.
#19: I am for art at the bottom of backpacks—receipts, tea packets, tangled headphones, and melted candy.
#20: I am for art that exists only in memories—sand castles, conversations, and elementary school poetry.
#21: I am for art that takes our world and shrinks it—Old victorian style doll houses with miniature furniture, plants, and people.
#22: I am for art that collects dust.
#23: I am for art that is only beautiful because it exists in large quantities displayed together.
#24: I am for the art of hiding love notes in suitcases—tucked inside the pages of a book, under underwear, and behind the camera case.
#25: I am for an art that scoops foolish bumble bees out from turquoise swimming pools with bare hands and sprigs of grass.
#26: I am for the art with wet skin and dripping hair.
#27: I am for art that I will never have the tools to create; bee hives, sunsets, and seafoam.
#2: I am for art that gets buried underground, only to sprout up in the spring.
#3: I am for art that hugs your fingers and decorates your hands with copper, gold, silver, and stone.
#4: I am for art that turns your fingernails purple, blue, yellow, pink, and orange.
#5: I am for art that reflects your face; mirrors, puddles, and polished elevators.
#6: I am for art that zooms past you underground, blowing air as it comes to a halt.
#7: I am for artists that explore make believe worlds and invent imaginary people.
#8: I am for the art that is interactive—art where people can write their own messages on walls, attach locks to chain link fences, or throw coins into fountains.
#9: I am for the artist that defies logic—24 hour films that test human psychology and our inability to avoid constructing a story out of unrelated events.
#10: I am for the artists that empower girls.
#11: I am for the artists that make me laugh.
#12: I am for an art that dips string in buckets of soap and lets the wind make translucent, hollow, rainbow spheres in the sky.
#13: I am for art that uses every color of the rainbow.
#14: I am for an art that you control with black and white keys.
#15: I am for art that transcends through car speakers to vibrate your core.
#16: I am for the art of driving an extra lap around the block to hear the end of a good song.
#17: I am for an art that starts out as words on a page and turns into drawings.
#18: I am for art that winds up on homework assignments, to do lists, and lecture notes.
#19: I am for art at the bottom of backpacks—receipts, tea packets, tangled headphones, and melted candy.
#20: I am for art that exists only in memories—sand castles, conversations, and elementary school poetry.
#21: I am for art that takes our world and shrinks it—Old victorian style doll houses with miniature furniture, plants, and people.
#22: I am for art that collects dust.
#23: I am for art that is only beautiful because it exists in large quantities displayed together.
#24: I am for the art of hiding love notes in suitcases—tucked inside the pages of a book, under underwear, and behind the camera case.
#25: I am for an art that scoops foolish bumble bees out from turquoise swimming pools with bare hands and sprigs of grass.
#26: I am for the art with wet skin and dripping hair.
#27: I am for art that I will never have the tools to create; bee hives, sunsets, and seafoam.
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© Annie Fay Meitchik. All Rights Reserved. All content on anniefay.com is my own or credit is given when applicable, please do not use any of my images before contacting me above or @ anniefaymeitchik@gmail.com.
Katie, San Francisco 2016.
This week in my Writing for Artists class, we read "Bluets" by Maggie Nelson. Taking inspiration from her work, we were asked to write our own list of propositions about something that fuels our own artistic practice.
This is my piece. Enjoy!!
This is my piece. Enjoy!!
Autobiography of an Artist
1] Imagine that you and I are having a conversation. You ask me questions like What do you want to be when you grow up? Or What’s more important to you, money or happiness? I don’t give you answers. I fiddle with the paper label at the end of the string on my green tea sachet. I might peer into the empty mug, trying to will it to refill with boiling water with my mind—Anything to avoid eye contact, to avoid your questions. I’ll answer, but not with the words you’re looking for. Instead, I’m going to tell you a secret—I’m in love with love.
2] I’ll explain to you how chasing after something as intangible as an emotion has set me on a divergent path with a unique set of landmarks. I’ll tell you about the things, places, and people I’ve fallen in love with on this journey.
3] With a new sparkle you’ll have never noticed in my eye before, I’ll look up from my empty mug full of wonder and excitement. I love talking about love. Why don’t we all? I’ll tell you about the stories I fell in love with first—My copy of “Alice Through the Looking Glass” that my mom bought from my elementary school library because I loved it so much in it’s plastic jacket with a sticker marking it’s Dewey Decimal Classification: FIC CAR. I’ll tell you how I imagined seven impossible things before breakfast just like Alice. I fell in love with more stories: paintings, photographs, music, and films. I’ll tell you about my first yellow composition notebooks, how I feel when I watch “We Bought a Zoo,” and what it’s like to hear Fleetwood Mac perform “Landslide” live. I will confess that the only concept that ties these things together is love. Love unifies everything.
4] I’ll collect our mugs and make sure they’re full for this next part, they need more water and a drizzle of honey before I can continue. I’ll set the warm ceramic down upon the counter and tell you about the places and people I love. Places and people are more ephemeral than stories, paintings, music, and films—You can leave a place or a person, and a place or a person can leave you too.
5] I’ll tell you every detail about what it was like to teach art lessons at the farm for eight summers. I’ll tell you about the fairy houses we built by the creek, the alpacas named Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the chocolate fudgesicles we’d give the campers once a week for a snack that would melt in the sun, the boat races, the paint splattered clothing reserved for work, the charcoal covered faces, the Friday pizza parties and art shows, and working alongside my best friends and role models. It was incredible. But, I’ll also tell you what it felt like for the owner to retire and for me to lose the place that was always my future, my safety net, and my sanctuary. It was heartbreaking. This summer feels different, it feels like a hot winter.
6] I’ll tell you about how my life has felt like a cycle where the people I love most leave me behind. I’ll tell you every detail about what it was like to withdraw from UC Santa Barbara after my freshman year. I’ll tell you about my roommate, Francesca, who has remained one of my closest friends. I’ll tell you about the road trips, the boy, the zebras in San Simeon, the $12 smoothies I’d drive to Malibu for, and the hundreds of pages I wrote on a tear stained MacBook keyboard. It was liberating. But, I’ll also tell you what it feels like to live at home when everyone I love is pursuing dreams that take them away from me. I feel abandoned.
7] I’ll tell you about everyone I’ve ever been in love with, I think. The story will start in 8th grade on a camping trip that I left earlier than everyone else in my grade. That story won’t end until I’m 18. I’ll tell you all about unrequited love. I know a lot about unrequited love. There will be a lot of little loves to ruminate over. Lots of could-have, would-have, should-have kind of loves. But, I know your time is valuable and your tea cup is almost empty. We can fast forward a bit. We can talk about now.
8] I’ll tell you all about my first requited love—I’ll tell you the things I have trouble admitting to myself.
9] You have to go soon, and you politely ask me again What do you want to be when you grow up? and What’s more important to you, money or happiness?
10] In love and happiness.
© Annie Fay Meitchik. All Rights Reserved. All content on anniefay.com is my own or credit is given when applicable, please do not use any of my images before contacting me above or @ anniefaymeitchik@gmail.com.
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