grit, teeth, noise, synesthesia.

It's a little embarrassing to admit that those are indeed my own teeth. But it's a pretty cool image, no?


I've decided to tackle a subject that makes me very uncomfortable, so as to gain some perspective on my insecurities that involve the social politics of dental cosmetics. Teeth have been a very interesting subject to me for quite some time. They are gross, they are necessary, they are fascinating, they lack sense and yet can be the cause of so much pain. An animal's habit of showing and gritting one's teeth is a naturally threatening signal, while humans flash their teeth with a friendly smile.

Teeth are defensive, yet vulnerable.
Teeth contain a unique topography to each individual (by this I'm referring to the use of dental records as a means of identifying a body, for example)-- Fingerprints are like the map, where teeth are the terrain.
I could go on and on and on as to why I find the subject of teeth so damn fascinating. There are so many cultural hang-ups that surround teeth: "dental culture", is perhaps the proper nomenclature? Grills, gold caps, obsessive bleaching... There is a status symbol in dental hygiene. There is judgment in its neglect.

These questions that involve defining subject, object and relevance seem to find some answer in these portraits. This certainly isn't a final product, but only a documentation of the process. I'm interested in the initial draw to the image, the repulsion, the comprehension that the image of these teeth in fact belong to someone one might know, and perhaps the guilt that follows. I know it's not there yet, I know it's not nearly as dramatic, but I'm getting there...

I find that I have a much more passionate and energetic response to music these days (as has always been the case, really). I will go out of my way to see a concert before an art opening-- always. I spend so much money on shows. I crawled out of my sick-bed and walked 15 blocks to see Corin Tucker. Granted much of it has to do with atmosphere, social gathering, and alcohol, but the immersive quality of an aural experience can be so utterly captivating and powerful. I find I am extremely drawn to the droning, endless, wall-of-sound-- the feeling of timelessness in a sea of pure noise-- the anti-song. Reality is suspended in the feedback solo or the perfect percussion of a seemingly eternal drum beat. I feel there. I feel here. I feel everywhere. I fucking feel. It's quasi-religious; Michael Gira (Swans) was- for a moment- godlike. You can relate-- I know you can.

Okay, where am I going with this. I have recently become enamored with the idea of finding a visual equivalent to rock and roll. I haven't entirely scrapped my hyper-minimalist, Formal questions of pattern yet (yes, I'm still in love with equilateral triangles), but I think that's merely a single unit to a multifaceted structure I have yet to conceive and construct. Rock and roll is so much about the front man, isn't it? It's so much about persona as much as it is about the noise. Subject/object relationships! Is that what I'm still talking about?!

I'm frustrated with the fact that I suddenly started making pretty things. It's like listening to... Jewel, for example. I'm revolting against my own inclinations towards beauty and elegance. I need some tooth in my life and work (pun entirely intended).

If you follow my studio practice in any way, you already know where these teeth are going. I am excited to say that things have been pretty successful on the making-end, as of late. I'm still asking a lot of questions about my work. I still have a difficult time articulating my interests in relation to my work because they range from (as stated above) rock and roll, to Buckminster Fuller, to material translation, to landscape, to architecture to et cetera, et cetera. And then to relate it back to ceramics and craft? (those are honestly the least of my concerns anymore). In any case, I can confidently say that I am back in production, and the only way to find answers to these questions is to continue making. I am indeed constantly vacillating between thinking and making, but I suppose it's a good thing...

On the next episode:
SEEKING THE VISUAL ANALOG TO ROCK AND ROLL.

Goodness new good news

In an effort to be a more conscious person of my surroundings, to make use of myself as a human being, to be a responsible consumer (and disposer), to participate in a greater community outside of my own judgments and values, and to actively give a shit, I've joined a few wonderful co-ops, collectives, and volunteer groups. (Pedal Coop, Handmade Philly, Food Not Bombs).

I'm excited to begin working with all three organizations. I think I have been struggling with an internal dilemma with my work since the end of school. So much of the work I've made has been a challenge in technical facility. Learning new processes, and overcoming skill-based boundaries has thus far driven my work, but I can only have the "process conversation" for so long until the work becomes pallid and predictable. The fascinating "how" of the work has been established for me. It seems as though the hard part to address is the "what" and "why." Does one call that concept? Does one call that an oeuvre? How often do we honestly confront our cares and interests?
Perhaps it's easier than all of that, and perhaps I simply think about it too much. Perhaps it's all entirely subjective, and perhaps it's simple to decide what one likes. But perhaps it isn't too much to ask myself to be honest and address the bringing of another object into the world-- it should at least be done well and thoughtfully. I feel that my work thus far is missing something. I think it's missing this dimension that transcends process (perhaps something to bring a conversation to craft, rather than a monologue on skill). 
Through my promise to dedicate my time to these organizations, I am bringing an Active sensibility into my routine, addressing what I know I care about in a way that is communal and more significant than myself. I don't have to run in circles with some kind of naive idealism; I can sublimate this anxious energy into something good instead of ignoring it. In the end, I'm doing it for me. I'm willing to admit that. But I think we're all in it for ourselves, it's what we do. But if I'm going to do something for myself, I can at least make sure it's the distribution of something good that benefits others.
Check back soon, hopefully I'll have made work that addresses the "why" of what I make. Maybe something will come of all of this.

an update for no one

I do often wonder what the traffic is like on these silly little blogs. For whom do I make these updates (except myself, only to placate some ounce of obligation I have towards career-building, self advertisement)? Perhaps I rely on the off chance that some hopeless reader will stumble across tracyjlee.blogspot.com. In the name of serendipity, to those single pair of eyes out there, here's the update for you and only you (don't you feel so special?): I have graduated, had a show, and relocated from the sticks of Upstate New York to the sticks of Maine. Watershed Center for Ceramics in Newcastle, Maine to be specific.

I have been hired as one of two kitchen staff for the summer and am responsible for preparing healthful, balanced meals with a concern for local foods. I'll fit studio work in there somewhere, eventually. I think my artistic inclinations have manifested themselves through the cooking (this may just be a fancy excuse for my lack of ceramic output). Fortunately, each meal seems to have been a success (pictures to come, someday) i.e. this evening's fried chicken (yes, fried chicken), fried tofu for the veggies, curried wild rice salad, rosemary and sea salt loaves, cream of carrot soup and salad from the farm down the road. Being a good cook is a good way to make people like you, it seems. The resident artists are wonderful, and each session (which is only two weeks long) holds true every time. Dan Murphy, Dean Adams, and Trevor Dunn are heading a wood-kiln building session this time around. The progress sounds like it's going well (at this point, I wouldn't know, as I reside up the hill in the kitchen most of the time). Yes, all is so well and quaint in this hippie-clay-commune...
After all of this, I move on to the Clay Studio in Philadelphia, PA in the fall. Hoorah! Now. I just need some roommates, a job and a place to live. Hmm.

Finally, the point of this update of sorts was simply to state that I am resurrecting this blog for the gajillionth time, and am in the process of fixing things, uploading images, resume, and making things look pretty. Pardon the shoddy design flaws that can be such an eyesore. I'm doing my best with a shitty internet connection, a mediocre blog-server-thing, and next to no html/web knowledge.

a little bit of inspiration

"The more one thinks about it, the more the Earth resembles a brain... The contorted geography like the folds of a developing cerebellum, mutated by the evolutionary influences of our collective experience.... Exploring into this space is to examine the unknown realm of the common human mind, whose labyrinthine mysteries lie in infinite complexity around us, manifested in the physical world we build and inhabit." -Damon Farragut