Manifesto

Art may be deemed as such by fulfilling the following criteria:

• Exposes and inquires into the respective contemporary society of the artist.
• Transcends age, gender, and generations.
• Is informed by and conscious of the forms and aesthetics of the past.
• Is intended to be easily accessible.

Our manifesto grew out of a mutual interest in examining and actively questioning our society. It developed as we discussed as a group our points of interest and perspectives on what is important to social discourse, both aesthetically and as commentary.

We decided to explore different mediums to create a collection of works that portray the ideas expressed in our manifesto. This mix up of different mediums is reminiscent of the mashup by DJ Food we were assigned to read. That 40 minute piece was built off the exact same thing we were focusing on in our manifesto. It discussed not only the history of a new genre, but many societal problems that came to light as the genre emerged. For example, it started out by reflecting on the technology that helped the genre take root; music files on the internet. With this change came the surge of access to music, but at the cost of the artists. Good and bad accompanied the events, but it was not really picking sides, rather calling attention to the developments in the society surrounding the artist.

   The main point of our manifesto is that true art exposes different aspects of the artist’s society. Our first thought was to use our art pieces to expose the problems we, as the “artists”, see around us. however, we realized that true art should not just complain about society but also celebrate it. Thus, we chose to base our artwork around the idea of exalting the common man in today’s economy. An example of this that comes to mind is the beloved artwork of Norman Rockwell, who did not choose the most beautiful subjects to draw. In fact, common man would be a very fitting word for most of his characters, and yet the pictures are so lively and strike joy in the viewer. This is a very simple yet effective example of "exalting" the common man. Since Norman Rockwell dealt with plenty of poverty in his time, and his artwork reflected that poverty, his work fit very well with the ideals of our manifesto.

What follows is a series of images that we feel illustrate, or even exemplify our manifesto:

Jared:

Junk Mail: A meditation on the efforts of creators/producers to reach consumers, and the effect this has on many aspects of our environment and economy. 

Aranzha:

My piece celebrates young love in the fast food society. Countless times we’ve seen montages with young couples sharing a milkshake (“Two straws, please!”), right? So, I decided to replace this symbol of romance for a hamburger because I have been tempted many times to condemn a society were the cheapest food comes from fast food restaurants without even considering that food, in any form, is a blessing. Love is everywhere, a .99 cents sandwich doesn’t make a moment any less special.

Chris:

 My piece of the collection, entitled Trade Marks, is a play on words. As you will find in the drawings, many of the well-known company symbols have been mixed and mingled. My generation has grown up in a crazy world of advertising and monopolies. The capitalistic country I have been raised in has thrived on it's system for decades and has become very advanced as a result, but constant competition for the new best product has caused an intellectual civil war. This war is not over territory but over names and ideas. Companies must fight for not only their name, but also for our attention. My piece is calling attention to that war (for good and bad) 

Hannah:

My art piece exalts the common man/woman and also exposes and inquires into my contemporary society. I used common facebook pictures of people I have talked to and used their real stories in my art as I comment on the economic struggle we are facing. I am using an aesthetic of the past, decoupage, and it is easily accessible because it is on my blog. I also tried to make if full of texture to make it tactile and real.

Compelling Art

Robert and Shana Parkeharrison

-Lucid Dream

-In The Orchard

Historical Story

In the late 1860’s, Mark Twain set out on a primitive road trip, taking wagon and train, out into the west. Part of his travels led him to Salt Lake City. During his stay, Twain found occasion to document his experiences with the Mormons. His account contains a very humorous meeting with the prophet Brigham Young. This is the basis for our “Historical Story”.

By examining the intersection of two notable historical men, we found fertile ground for an examination of character and context. This manifested itself in the opportunities afforded us as we imagined Mark Twain finding himself in an entirely new context. Simultaneously, Brigham Young was introduced to a very interesting ‘character’, perhaps one of the most interesting men of the times. We created a fictional third character to be intermediary of the two men. Much of the dialogue was inspired by Mark Twain’s own account of the story. Though we have an account from one side of the record, it is obvious that we could not take Twain’s account as factual. Memories and personal accounts are fluid and often too subjective to be considered Truth. This concept was excellently illustrated in Ethan Canin’s short piece “Vivian, Fort Barnwell”.

With this in mind, we took quite a few liberties in fabricating what the conversation might have sounded like instead of what it did sound like. While both men are often regarded as some of the greater minds of the 19th century, we felt it justified to give them some character flaws, especially issues with self esteem and temper. This allowed the conversation to elevate to a level more inappropriate than what a prophet of the Lord probably would have allowed. In order to protect our salvation, we made sure most of the aggression came from Mark Twain, leaving Brigham Young with more intellectual and passive come-backs. Sure, it is fun to have famous historical figures fight each other in our own personal arena, but Fritz brings up the most important point: It is a shame that these men did not fully appreciate the other’s genius simply because their expertise was in different areas.

Click Here For Script

Genealogical Artifact

Statement: When considering an object or artifact that has held a significant place in my life, an item of food comes to mind. This food is a traditional South African delicacy. It is a sausage that has caused a great deal of excitement in my family for as long as I can remember. Apart from simply exciting my family's tastebuds, it helped finance our immigration and immunization into the United States. My family handcrafts the sausage from the finest local meats and fresh ground spices. It is called Boere Worse. It means farmer's sausage, and the process of making to eating, is an incredibly sensuous experience. It stands for my family's commitment to be in the United States, as well as a reminder of where we came. It is very much a root and a branch, functioning as one. When writing my essay I was inspired by another essay written by Tony Judt entitled "Food". It is a short piece found in his memoir, The Memory Chalet. Just as Tony was aided in finding his identity through the food he ate, I feel a strong connection to my family and myself through this linked sausage. Similarly to Siri Hustvedt's description of utilizing a set of useless, unknown keys left behind by her father, I too have found that taking a bite of Boere Worse grounds me in a way that promotes clear and creative thinking. Maybe even a bit of euphoria.

:: ::

The whole house smells strongly of coriander and malt vinegar. My mouth is watering as I lay on the top bunk. I know my dad is in the kitchen cutting meat with mom’s ‘sharp’ knife, the one that we mustn’t touch because we could get hurt. He is standing beside the round table that can fold out to be bigger when we have guests. I know he is still there cutting meat and stirring it into all the vinegar because I haven’t heard the terrible machine start yet, just the small noise of my mom grinding fresh coriander for the sausage.
I start to drift to sleep when I hear the terrible noise start. A hellish racket fills the house and makes me rollover in my bed. My brother below also shifts in his sleep. The machine screeches and hums and whines as my parents feed meat into it’s top. I know that’s what they are doing because sometimes they let us help. Tonight they said it was too late since I was starting school in the morning. I try to sleep. The noise is too loud and the smell makes me too impatient.

I climb down from my bunk and creep into the kitchen to watch all the racket. My parents are both standing on the yellow linoleum floor. Beside my dad is a big black bucket filled with meat. He reaches his big hands into the bucket and pulls out piles of oatmeal and spice covered pork and beef. He puts the meat into the top of the screeching machine and then pushes it down through a hole with the wooden pusher. That is my favorite job: to push the meat in with the wooden thing.  Mom is sitting at the table guiding the grinded meat into pork casing. It looks so gross the way the meat fills the thin white tube and turns it red as it expands. I just stand there and watch them, no longer trying to hide. Soon my dad tells me to come stand on a chair at the table and help if I want. I quickly mount the chair and help my dad push meat through the top of the machine. The meat is cold and wet, and squishes if I squeeze it in my hands. It’s covered in special spices so it also feels powdery and clumpy like a sucker that falls out of your mouth and into the dirt. It smells delicious, and I start slipping a small piece of it into my mouth until I remember that the meat is raw and mom says it will make me sick.

I help for a little while but my eyes start getting blurry, so I get off the chair and head for bed. My mom quickly tells me to wash my blood covered hands before returning to my room. The blood had dried there with flakes of oatmeal and I had forgotten. She talks quietly about using soap and somehow I still hear her over the noise of the meat grinder.

My parents have been making sausage for as long as I can remember. It’s called Boerewors, you say it like boravorse, but either way I say it, none of the other kids I know have ever heard of it. It’s from South Africa like us, and my dad makes the best in the whole country. South Africans from all over come to buy from us. I start drifting to sleep even though the screeching and grinding seem to never stop.