Gladys Yurchak's Famous Philly Barn Dance

As part of a new way to waste time, I've decided to produce a YouTube video series. In this series, I will casually explore characters as a way to prepare for more formal videos and performances. These characters primarily derive from art world figures and are mixed through the filters of my ... one could say... twisted imagination.

The series is called Gladys Yurchak's Famous Philly Barn Dance and features such characters as Bartlett Pearson (host of "Contemporary Notions of Glory, Passion & Meaning: Inside the Artist's Studio with Bartlett Pearson"), Gloria Perez (well-known curator for the prestigious Galleries at Tawaskawigwam County Community College) and various other made-up artists, collectors and critics. In a sketch-style format, these characters will interact in various situations including interviews, foibles and misadventures, all hosted by Gladys Yurchak (me.)

You see, I got this new camera -- a tiny digital camcorder that allows me to cheaply (and quickly) produce decent video for the web. Since I want to make videos all the time (and not just when one of the HDV cameras is available from the cage at Moore) but I don't have $5,000 laying around for a decent camera, I thought this cheapie deal would be perfect. This way, I can make video whenever, wherever, and use almost any computer (even the Toxic Avenger, my tempermental HP monster) to edit and upload. Plus, it runs on regular AA batteries and fits in my pocket like a cell phone. Sure, it's not a SteadyCam, but when you're producing for the web, who needs that insane level of quality?

CRITS!

Life right now: Hectic
Why: Finals

Lately, I've been spending all of my time running around finishing up last minute tasks for final exams and crits. Last week, I finished up three of my crits/finals, and after today, I'll be done my last two exams, which leaves my departmental crit on Thursday. I'm panicking, frankly, but I'm assured that it's all going to be ok like it always is. We'll see.

Last First Friday of Aught-Eight

After a long afternoon of gallery-hopping and right before a long evening of the same, sometimes it's nice just to sit in Sarah Mooney's apartment and talk to her cat, Simone, while she's in the shower. Or, at least, it is this time.

First Friday, so far, for me has been some very quiet visits to the Bridgette Meyer and Locks Galleries, then a pretty hysterical pop-in to the Society Hill Synogogue for the opening of "Cypher," an exhibition of drawings by the Moore Fine Art Seniors. Angel and I got a good laugh and ate a few too many blackberries, then I headed out to Vox, but I guess they weren't ready yet. Being in the neighborhood, I hopped in to see Sarah, and now we're waiting to go to Olde City.

Later tonight, I'll be off to Drexel for the Drexel Football Team's Bathtub Party Day Comedy Improv Show. It's the last one of the term, so it should be a good time. And, it's free, so ... yeah.

Simone was just washing herself.

Nightmare on Wood Street

First Friday, one of the most infamous events in the lives of Philadelphia art students, came and passed as always with herds of gallery-goers migrating toward the Old City district. I would have been one of those students, but this time around, I had another destination: 11th and Wood Street, home of the Compound Warehaus, Vox Populi and Copy Galleries (among others).

Why should a diligent art student like myself stray so far away from the crisp, professional Old City galleries on First Friday of all nights? Initially, it was just because my friend Angel had a print in a show that was opening at Compound Warehaus's "Nightmare on Wood Street" show, a group exhibition of wild and wacky prints and mixed media art. 

The space was remarkably casual with bearded and flannel-clad hipsters wandering about eating pretzels, drinking beer and petting the pooch that quietly sat in a corner of the gallery politely greeting guests. Angel's piece was hilarious, as always, and the work all put together formed a visual feast, almost a room-sized collage. 

After peaking in there, I figured I might as well head upstairs to Vox and Copy. Vox was a slick display of ultra-cutting edge mixed media, performance and photographic (term used loosely) works. Copy expanded on this room-collage idea by filling its entire space with kitsch collections, including a collection of old flyers tossed on the floor. 

The atmosphere was much more casual than Old City, and the crowds were definitely more agreeable, giving us time to actually look at the work, of all things. I must say, I don't know if I'm going back to Old City  for very many more First Fridays.

Memorial to an Image

In response to a prompt in my Intermediate Photo class, I've created a shrine/memorial to an image. I chose to use a website format for this memorial because of the discussion it brings up about our movement away from traditional art image viewing.

Enter The Memorial

Little Dana in the Big Apple

On Thursday, the Fine Art, Photography & Digital Arts and Basics departments took a field trip to New York City to look at art. Since nothing in my life ever goes according to plan, of course many adventures ensued.

First, we stowed Sandy Frank away on the Fine Arts bus instead of the Basics bus where she belonged. At first, we figured it wasn't a big deal - we were all going to the same place - but when one of the Basics professors came onto our bus looking for "one of his students," we got a little nervous. There was no turning back now, though, and as the professor walked right by us not even noticing Sandy Frank, we sighed a relieved sigh and prepared for our journey.

After a couple of hours on the bus watching Harry Potter, commenting on it loudly and then deciding that we should start a radio show, Sandy Frank and the rest of us made it to the Met. It was about 10 a.m.

I was shortly thereafter accosted by several subsequent security guards for attempting to enter the museum with a turkey hoagie in my backpack and then trying to eat it outside on the steps. Who knew hoagies were such a threat - even in the coat check!

We grabbed some slices at this little (but muchos expensive) pizza joint nearby, met up with our friend Lauren, then headed down to Chelsea. Here are some highlights:

• Walked by the filming of a Law & Order episode. (We don't know if it was SVU.)
• Ernesto Neto's nylon stocking environments
• Berlinde de Bruyckere's disturbing and beautiful wax bodies
• Siebren Versteig's interactive and thoughtful digital projects
• NOT Sophie Calle's self-indulgent abuses of very thoughtful, universal imagery
  

Oyster Fest or How I ended up sleeping in a stranger's bed for two nights.

There's no easy way to say this. Oysters are delicious. Even the ones that cost more than $1 each.

Oyster Bay, Long Island is the home of the annual Oyster Festival, a harvest festival of sorts. This year, like in years past, my friend from Drexel (or, Jake's friend and therefor mine by association) Houstin carted a bunch of us up from Philly to partake of the salty feast. We left a little before 11 pm, piling into other-friend-Nick's white station wagon. During the drive up, we passed snack sized Kit Kat bars, recounted our favorite jokes from that night's Drexel Football Team improv performance, and caught some snoozage while the engineers in the car talked... well... engineering.

Being the only female was an unusual position for me since I started at Moore way back in aught-six, but I must say, I handled it with the graceless awkwardness that would befit an ogre or a small dog in the same situation. What can I say? I'm always a star.

We stayed the weekend at Bam's house. Who's Bam? I'm still not quite sure, having met him for a grand total of maybe 3 minutes. Apparently, he lives in Oyster Bay, and apparently Houstin knows him somehow, having been given a key to this guy's house. Jake and I missed the memo about bringing sleeping bags and pillows, so we slept in the tiny-tiny bed in what appeared to be the bedroom of a five-year-old girl - bedecked with Micky Mouse prints and cloud-mural-walls. "Don't even THINK naughty thoughts," I said to myself as I laid under the wall-matching-cloud-printed sheets staring at the cloud-painted ceiling, terrified of somehow ruining the innocence of this who-knows-why absent child.

The festival was a couple of miles away from Bam's house, so we hoofed it over on Saturday morning. The streets of this quaint yuppy town were filled with almost quaint yuppy folks and their kids quietly moving from booth to booth in the foodcourt drinking their bottomless sodas and slurping down oysters. The seafood was great - we feasted on oysters, lobster and sweet potato fries and drank so much of Wild Bill's Old Fashion Soda that we got pretty sick.

Back at the ranch, Houstin made us a pretty fantastic spaghetti and meatball dinner out of ingredients I guess he just sort of found around the house. Jake and the other lads played Soul Caliber II on Bam's XBox while I did some homework and dozed off.

The next day, Jake and I had to head home since neither of us had the liberty of an entirely home-work-free weekend, so we hopped on the Long Island Railroad, or the Train of the Future, as I'd like to call it, and ended up at Penn Station just in time to get breakfast at the Tick Tock Diner and hop on the Bolt Bus back to Philly. (I must say, between Philly and New York, someone's really mastered this public transportation thing.)

So, I'm still not sure how I ended up sleeping in a stranger's bed, but I won't say that I wouldn't do it again.

Did I mention I love my studio?

Since we started out in September, we've all grown accustomed to this new skin that is the Junior Studio. Now, we're more like a family, collaborating and pushing together to get through the rather intimidating amount of work we have to accomplish.

My last project that I was working on was a series of portraits of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit detectives in the style of Matisse and Rembrandt, and now I'm moving on to a large scale painting called "The Great Gorge-River-Monster Roundup," featuring a valiant cowboy hero engaged in battle with a giant aquatic monster that looks strangely like the creature from the black lagoon. My projects are definitely unlike what most of the other 2D Juniors are working on, and I'm having a bit of a problem resolving within myself what I'd like to do, but I know that at some point, I will figure it out. Anyway, most of my problems come from overthinking - and my teachers and peers are always reminding me to take things one step at a time, just get through the painting at hand.

There's nothing like getting really stressed over a painting, then having Lisa poke her head in from the adjacent studio and make some silly crack about her ceramic bunnies that just totally dissolves all of the pressure. 

Nautical Ink

Sunday evening was boring. The whole day was boring. Sandy Frank, Dennis, Sarah and I were bored. Bored, bored, bored.

Bored, of course, until we determined the perfect plan for the evening. Destination: South Street. Objective: Matching Tattoos.

Actually getting tattooed proved to be an adventure which led us out of Philadelphia Eddie's slimy establishment and into the so-clean-you-can-smell-it splendor of No Ka Oi, the parlour across the street.

A little background: the anchor tattoo has been something that Sandy Frank and I have been considering for two years. Instead of getting inked right when we decided how cool the idea was, we thought it wise to wait 2 years, and if it still seemed like a great idea, we'd do it.

Why anchors?

We think most tattoos are cheesy. Whether it's a rose, tribal, Tweety Bird, Celtic knot, hula girl, Chinese character, howling wolf head or something steeped in personal symbolism and meaning, Sandy Frank and I have a hard time taking an image (or our appearances) so seriously. We wanted something that acknowledged its own tattoo-ness (or 'tattude', if you'd like...), its hilarity, relative lack of originality and personal meaning, and ironic coolness able to withstand the test of time - only to grow more hilarious with age. We wanted the classic anchor tattoo.

Orientation

Whether I'd like to believe it or not, the fall semester is upon us. Before the changing of the leaves always comes freshman orientation. As a student leader, part of my responsibilities include assisting with various orientation programs.

This year, Sandy Frank is 'orienting', so to speak, so it's been fun going through this experience together.

Orientation is a weird animal. It asks that, at least at our school, about 150 new students from across various interests and levels of maturity come together and make small talk. To facilitate this small talk, about 30 student leaders are recruited and trained at the end of the previous spring semester. That's where I come in. "Hi, where are you from? Oh, really? I don't know where that is at all...."

Of course, this week isn't totally pointless. I shudder to think of what this first year class would look like in October had they not gone through this process together. Now that I mention it, I don't believe I WILL think about it... too scary.

Pancakes and Free Online TV

Being poor doesn't always have to suck. Take me for example; I'm pretty effing poor, but I still find ways to enjoy my life within the meager funds that I have.

This morning, since yesterday I resolved that I wouldn't go grocery shopping this week since next week at leadership training we'll be fed every day, I looked at my shelf on the pantry. The others were pretty loaded up with colorful boxes and bags of snacks and ingredients, while on mine sat a lonely stack of ramen noodles and a box of instant pancake mix. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, said I as I poured some ShopRite Brand pancake powder into one of my roommate's mixing bowls. The pancakes are easy enough to make and delicious enough to eat, so within ten minutes, I had a short stack fit for a ... well... fit for an Osburn.

Since I forgot what I was supposed to do today, I decided to spend this, one of my last days until I get strapped back into those desks for another semester of hard learning (as my dad would say) laying around. Again, being poor, I don't have cable TV. (To those who may be shocked by this, I say to you only that if one has to buy the Top Ramen because one can't afford the Maruchan noodles, one has no business subscribing to cable TV.) Thankfully, there is always the internet - a one stop shop for everything free, including all of my favorite shows.

So what am I going to do today? Lay around, eat pancakes and watch countless free episodes of Futurama on my pc. Yes, my friend, even the pauper can live the life of a prince.

Life at Omega/Epsilon Chai Tea

Above is a picture of my room so far at our new house in Mantua. Mantua is a neighborhood in West Philadelphia near Drexel University.

Four of my friends and I have decided that it was time to move off of Moore's little campus, so we've started renting this 5 bedroom house about 2 miles away. Since Moore has no sororities, we've declared our place (which houses about 1/100th of Moore's total student body) Omega/Epsilon Chai Tea, Moore's Premier Pseurority.

Since I came back from Mongolia on July 18th, one of my roommates, Jessica, and I have been living here 'full time,' so to speak, with the other four popping in and out throughout the past few weeks. When we moved in, the house was... shall we say... a dump. There was a pretty thick layer of grime on about every surface of the house, which Jessica and I spent countless hours scrubbing. To complicate the picture, Jessica rescued a 3 month old kitten from abandonment. He is very loving, very cute, but has a bad case of worms and isn't quite litter trained. All of this would be fine, had we the money for vet bills. His name is Toby, and we're finding it difficult to keep up with his numerous... uh... accidents.

I repainted my bedroom and started to decorate. We have a land line phone and a wireless network all to ourselves. The place is starting to feel like home in a way no place has for me in a while. Though, it's been nice to have the whole place to ourselves, Jessica and I are very excited for when the others move in. Sarah and Emily move in tomorrow and Sandy Frank, who's been in the process of moving for the past few weeks, will be officially in on the 16th. It will be a full house, no doubt about that.

The neighborhood is quirky, but safe - which is hard to explain to parents, but luckily, my parents approve of the place, as does Jessica's mom. Sarah and Emily's parents are another story, but sometimes you just can't win those battles.