4 Things That Set My Brain On Fire: Portland

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"This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things" from l to r: SUmmer Olsson, Michael James Schneider, Sammi, the extremely patient bartender

“This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things”
from l to r: Summer Olsson, Michael James Schneider, Sammi, the extremely patient Clyde Common bartender

“Two roads diverged in a wood”…no, that’s not the quote I’m trying to remember. “Life moves pretty fast; you don’t stop and look around once in awhile you could miss it.” Yup, that’s the one. Thanks Ferris.

I spent the last week exploring Portland, Oregon, for the first time. I fell in love with the city, as I had a suspicion I would. I met a lot of really wonderful people, reconnected with a crap-ton of old friends, conquered formerly-debilitating fears, and almost sliced people’s fingers off when I gave them my business card. The life-changing consequences of all this love are at the end of this post.

1) Summer in Winter! I had a blast creating art with my friend Summer Olsson (Google her)…she’s truly a fun, talented, smart person to create art with! (UPDATE: This was pretty much our soundtrack the entire visit). One brainstorm of ours was to create the characters of Fern and Clyde, two clowns moving to Portland. With the skilled photography of Aaron Warren, we dressed and painted our faces, and created a story in photos and a 6-second Vine clip that tells their story. Follow me on Facebook to get the whole story, released on Wednesdays and Saturdays! Continue reading →

My Brother’s Keeper, My Brother’s Killer, Part 2: Learning To Laugh Again

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A rare specimen: a picture of me laughing (photo by Kate Schroeder)

On New Year’s Eve, 22 years ago, my big brother passed away of a drug overdose. This past year, I experienced a staggering personal, romantic loss. I believe the grief with the latter has to do with unresolved issues from the former. This series is an attempt to move past both of these losses, and start healing. The stakes are never higher than when you take a stand for your own happiness (autocorrect almost changed that to “steaks”, and I almost kept it).

If you haven’t yet, please click here and read the first post in this series. Seriously. It’s like a reality show. Sorry, I mean “unscripted drama”. Maybe a telenovela.

So this is what has happened: My sister Linda, who has been an invaluable partner in this search, helped put me in touch with Melecio and Grace De La Garza, parents of Gilda De La Garza, who knew John for about ten years. She was one of his closest friends at the time of his death. I reached Gilda by phone (she lives in Arizona with her family now), and the conversation was a revelation. She described John as being like another brother to her, in addition to her two biological brothers. She mentioned that they think of John often, and have many pictures of him…she described him as a sort of “missing link” of her family, and that his charisma and charm had not only won her and her siblings over, but that her parents were taken with him too. She told me many stories, many associated with good emotions, some with bad. Continue reading →

4 Things That Set My Brain On Fire: NYC

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Pumped-up Kicks photo by Helen Darby

Pumped-up Kicks
photo by Helen Darby

Breathless with the cold, eager eyes open to everything around me: this was a trip I was looking forward to…it’s my third visit in a little over a year. In between seeing friends I hadn’t seen in a long time (and in the case of my very first boyfriend, I hadn’t see him in 20 years!), and making new ones (Nina Robinson’s photography is awesome), I got time to check out some inspiring art that fueled my own brain’s creative juices…and yes, handed out more than few of those crazy business cards. Saw stuff that you should check out too. Except in one case, I tried to pick longer-running stuff to include here so by the time you read this, it isn’t over already. So away we go: Continue reading →

The Warp And Weft, Part 2: Stitching Together The Art Of Neil Gaiman and Lee Bontecou

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As anyone who has been reading this blog for the past few months already knows, I’m designing the set for the Robert Kauzlaric adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s “Neverwhere”, at the Sacred Fools theater. I’ve gone into great detail about the musical, artistic, and cinematic inspiration for the scenic design in this previous post. As I type this, auditions are underway at the theater, and I’m going to deliver the set model this afternoon to director Scott Leggett, the intrepid leader of this creative expedition. This set will be heavily influenced by the sculpture of Lee Bontecou, and I’m finally ready to reveal the set model to the public! Some snaps of it follow later in this post.

To be honest, it’s kind of a dream of mine to mash-up the art of two of my “artistic heroes”, Neil Gaiman and Lee Bontecou. The former, because I enjoy the hell out of his storytelling, and the latter because find her art moving. Below is an example of her canvas-and-metal sculpture that I’ll attempt to replicate for the set:

Untitled, Lee Bontecou, 1962...the jumping-off point for my set design for "Neverwhere"

Untitled, Lee Bontecou, 1962…the jumping-off point for my set design for “Neverwhere”

The process started with a simple sketch (more after the break), Continue reading →

Oh Fudge, I’m Winning

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Another ridiculously enjoyable piece from BLCKSMTH contributing editor Jennie Kay. If you like this piece of hers, check out this one too.

Everybody Wins

Everybody Wins

Poetry is important to kids. It really is, even though we are all sucky poets as kids. Except that eight-year-old-Appalachian-savant that makes words out of twigs and becomes a poet-laureate, when they are the only ones in their extended family that know how to read. Except for them, we are all sucky poets as kids, but I believe it is really important to be a poet as a kid. Everything is so much more real then. I always said I wouldn’t get jaded, but as I look back, I was pretty well done by the age of ten. As a kid, you spend so much time looking around you can’t help but notice what’s really going on.  You learn things like: staring someone directly in the face after you have lied, will make you win. You shouldn’t know about winning before you are at least seventeen. I didn’t have a lot of wins growing up, but there were a few. Continue reading →

My Brother’s Keeper, My Brother’s Killer Part 1

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First in a series of five. If you’ve already read this, here is Part 2.

On December 31st, 1991, John Edward Hastings was a handsome, bright young 28 year old. He was known for being gregarious, spontaneous, and generous, and had a large circle of friends who loved him. He also happened to be a cocaine and heroin addict, an addiction that started in earnest when he was 26. After losing a great job and burning through his savings, his drug supply was funded by a friend of his in exchange for companionship. And on a sunny day 22 years ago, John Hastings was watching the New Year’s Eve parade in Phoenix, Arizona, when he suddenly became fatigued, stumbled against a wall, slid down it, and died. It was later presumed that he died of heart failure, brought about by the effects of drugs on his system. How do I know these details? Because John Hastings was my big brother. I have decided to find my brother’s “killer”, the woman who supplied my brother the funding that fueled his addiction. Continue reading →

CHRSTMS by BLCKSMTH

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Ok, ok, so this is a little late, but better late than never. I went from feeling a couple of weeks ago like I didn’t want to decorate at all this year, to going full-out (full disclosure: my mom convinced me to do it. I’m glad she insisted)! Here’s how I decorated at the last minute, without it looking last-minute. If you haven’t seen what my place looks like the rest of the year, here’s a link to the Apartment Therapy tour from earlier this year.

FIlter: Hefe

FIlter: Hefe

The rest of the pics are after the jump! Continue reading →

Low Is A Height

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Last night, I was watching a movie. (Okay, it was “Beaches”, a favorite from my high school days. Don’t judge). But all of a sudden, I heard a sweeping, loud, wet noise, and as I paused the movie and jumped up I realized it was a sudden rainstorm. I haven’t experienced a rainstorm that came on that quickly and forcefully since I lived in New Mexico. I went to the porch, reached my hand out, closed my eyes, and grabbed the rain. It was a sacred moment for me. Then I went inside and finished the movie (natch). And then I went to my desk and started on my novel again.

Oh, yeah, I started a novel. I’ve told maybe enough people to count on one hand. And I’ve given some chapters to read, to even fewer. But now you know, too. I stopped writing a couple of weeks ago; I had lost it. But I found it again, and it’s pretty great.

I thought of this song during the rainstorm, and then played it a few times while writing. It’s from 2007, by Great Northern, an LA-based band. You probably know their song “Home”. That’s great, but this one’s better.

Sometimes you can’t force inspiration, you have to be a leaf on the wind of it. Or pull it right out of a rainstorm.

(Lyrics are after the break)

Continue reading →

Believing the Grass Is Greener On Every Side

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photo by Kate Schroeder. And I really don’t like these glasses, but this is a rare pic of me actually smiling. Hmm…

It’s a tough thing, getting inspiration for your art. For so much of my life, I have claimed that pain has wrought the best creativity from me. I happily fulfilled the role of the tortured artist…there was something romantic about it, something noble in suffering for one’s art. But 2012 has been a strange year, and though I would love to say “it’s been a great year!” or “God, what a crappy year”, I can’t really sum it up so neatly. And yet, it’s been one of the most prolific years for my art. I feel like I’m turning a corner, both professionally and personally, with choices that will have seismic consequences for the rest of my life. The biggest changes internally have come in the last three months. Continue reading →

I Have An Elastic Heart

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And thus ends the strangest, most confusing, alchemical three months of my life. Starting August 27th, the day of the Apartment Therapy spread, and ending this past Sunday, I had a life-changing experience. And yes, I live my life transparently, but this story is just for me, for now.

Woke up this morning in such a great mood, and with breathtaking clarity. I am starting a new chapter of my life with a clear head and tabula rosa. No, recovering from this won’t be easy, or quick. As always, will keep y’all posted on the artistic, creative consequences. In the meantime, here is a fan-made video, set to Radiohead’s “Motion Picture Soundtrack” from their Kid A album. It’s directed by Jay Eckensberger. It’s muddy and low-res, but I love it. I’m feelin’ the lyrics, except for “I think you’re crazy”…I don’t think anyone’s crazy for saying what they need.

 

Art profile: “The Enemy Within”

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“The Enemy Within”, acrylic on canvas. Photo by Shaela Cook.

Sometimes it can be an exercise in futility to explain one’s art to people: creativity is so personal and subjective. Lately I’ve fielded a few questions about my art; in particular, the Periodic Table of Elements painting that started it all.

It was back in 2005 that I started my search for a vintage periodic table to fill a space on my wall. I’ve always had a slight obsession with medical and scientific ephemera, as also detailed in this previous, controversial post. I was looking for a very specific size, and wanted it to have some color in it, if possible. After searching flea markets and ebay, I gave up quickly: I was impatient, I was particular, I was determined. I decided to paint one myself. Continue reading →

What the Kay?

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BLCKSMTH introduces its first contributing editor, Jennie Kay. Jennie Kay poses as a communication design specialist while packing a six-shooter of creative wit and observation. Originally from Michigan, she has lived in California for the past thirteen years, and currently resides in Antigua, Guatemala.

Anaheim Gothic (hat-tip to Paul Plunkett)

Here’s a piece of hers. It’s typical of her fresh, vulnerable, authentic voice. I’m a fan. You will be too. Visit her website, or find her on Facebook.

 

“Welcome To My (Microwaved-Organic-Low Calorie-Horribly Unsatisfying) Life”

I have decided to split up with my boyfriend. I made the decision.

I realize that it is not for lack of care or anything he has or has not done, which unfortunately I blame way too much on him in the first place, poor guy. Simply put, there is nothing he does that makes me a better person.

He helps me throw better parties, but that is not really a relationship skill, or is it?

My friend Greg says it is.

He says it means you ultimately know how to work together. That is great, but throwing a good party isn’t helping me finally lose some weight and feel better about myself, throwing a better party is not getting told my tits look fantastic (frankly, it usually is, but not by him), throwing an amazing party is not going to help me figure out what the hell I am doing with my life, throwing a great party isn’t helping me pay off the credit cards I have been living off of the last three months and it sure as hell won’t tell me if I can seriously commit to helping a child grow up. Continue reading →

The Unlikely 4-Letter Word: My Parents’ Brushes With Cancer

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For the last few years, I’ve been taking care of my self pretty well: I eat healthy, exercise regularly, and try to get enough sleep, despite both my night owl/early-morning-writer habits. I do these things in no small part because I feel they contribute to my health, but also decrease my chances of getting cancer. Both of my parents have had brushes with cancer. Something that a friend is going through this week has made me think a little bit more about my parent’s experience, and I realized I didn’t know, I didn’t really know what they went through. So I decided to ask them.

I reached out to them cautiously, almost timidly: I had no idea how either of them would react to their son probing a delicate subject like battling cancer, or even having a close call with it, for writing he intended to share publicly (full disclosure: both of my parents had complete access to all drafts of this piece, and also retained full “veto power” in case they changed their minds).  My friends and family know that I live my life transparently. It’s not a huge philosophical choice, it’s just how I feel. Yes, there are things that I tell only very few people, but in general, I haven’t really gained anything by keeping secrets. But I wasn’t prepared for how open and eager they were to share their challenges, their fears, and their courage. Continue reading →

The Birth Of A Tool, Part 2

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The guys over at John Neeman Tools nailed it again, with the follow-up to their “Birth Of A Tool, Part 1”. Incredibly detailed and beautiful piece of film, with a killer song.

And yeah, it’s time to live up to my name. Currently looking for blacksmiths in the LA area who will take on a pretty green apprentice. And no, I’m not joking. If you know of any, drop me a line at mkschndr@gmail.com.

This Is Who We Are. This Is What We Do.

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No Stops ‘Til Albuquerque

I am in New Mexico for a few days for a wedding of two dear friends of mine, one of whom I’ve known about 15 years, and another who I have known for only a few years, but love just as dearly. The ceremony was yesterday, and it was lovely and moving: my pocket square got a workout, and I don’t usually cry at weddings. But it got me thinking. Well, I guess I’ve been very contemplative in general lately, thinking about the tapestry that forms my life, and the people who are the fabric in it. In particular, this year has been a catalyst for change for me, and I wonder what my life will look like in a year. I know it will look very, very different than it looked a year ago…I know what I want it to look like, both professionally and personally, but am finally coming to terms that that neither might be in my control. It’s hard yielding control, but with so much at stake (in both aspects), I feel like if I work hard at both, the results will pay off. It’s hard to have faith, with so little to give me hope. But I guess that’s why they call it faith, and in the end, optimism will always defeat cynicism. It has to. Love always wins. Continue reading →

In Between The Warp And Weft, or, A Sublime Monstrosity

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Sculpture by Lee Bontecou. My set for Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere will be heavily inspired by her artwork.

UPDATE: I’m ready to reveal the set model for the upcoming Sacred Fools production of Neverwhere! Click here to see the post revealing the set model.

This past week marked the start of my working in earnest on an upcoming project: the scenic design for the Sacred Fools Theater production of Robert Kauzlaric’s masterful adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, directed by Scott Leggett.

It could seem like a daunting project: there are a couple dozen locations in the play; the set has to represent both the overworld and the underworld. And I have taken inspiration from an artist, Lee Bontecou, whose steel-and-canvas sculptures defy logic and challenge complacency. I can only hope to come close to replicating her art on such a large scale, but I will do my best. My enthusiasm for both Lee and Neil’s creations far outweighs any concerns I have about the challenges ahead.

Lee Bontecou in her Pennsylvania studio, June 2003
Photo by Josh Titus, courtesy UCLA Hammer Museum, Los Angeles

After reading the script a few times, and also getting inspiration from Neil’s book and graphic novel, I set about sketching the set. I have included other inspiration, too: Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro’s work on The City of Lost Children inspires so much of my creative work, and I can’t help but include their influence. Here’s the trailer for that film:

I listened to a lot of Sigur Ros and Radiohead while sketching (when the set is complete, if you put your ear up to it and listen very, very closely, you may hear the strains of “Treefingers”). My first pass is a sublime monstrosity, both organic and mechanical, both refined and grotesque. In other words, better than I could have hoped! Continue reading →

“Room For Color” Contest

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Sometimes I look at this picture to remember how clean it used to be.

I’m pretty excited: my apartment, featured in a home tour on Apartment Therapy a couple of months ago, was accepted in the Room For Color contest on Apartment Therapy! Please take a moment to click this link and “favorite” my place, I would really appreciate it.

There’s been other exciting news coming out of the original Apartment Therapy shoot (featuring beautiful photography by the talented Shaela Cook), I’m firming up the details and I’ll post more as soon as I can.

Little Curtis, Part 3

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Little Curtis, getting up to shenanigans

The loose, rattling knock sounded through the entire three-story farmhouse. For Pete’s sake, thought Betty drying her hands on the dishtowel as she came out of the kitchen to answer it, they’re going to knock that poor screen door right off its hinges! It wouldn’t take much though, she mused: repairing that old rickety screen door had been on Joe’s honey-do list for as long as she could remember. They would likely repair it in time for Little Curtis’ wedding at this rate.

She looked down the hallway at the front door, and tried to make out the figure through the yellowing lace of the window covering. The figure outside was tall and lanky, and bore the slightly stooped silhouette of a life hard-worked, of money hard-earned. She realized with a start that it was her neighbor, Jasper Proctor! She almost didn’t recognize him without the beard he used to sport. Why, he hadn’t come around in…Betty counted the years on her fingers, and when she realized she would need a third hand to properly count the years since old Jasper had trundled over from his cattle farm next door, she gave up. It must have been right after the mill fire that he had last come over. His driveway had been a makeshift fire line for the blaze that had swept the plain, and it still bore the soot deeply: she could always tell which of their long driveways a car was coming down, from the color of the dust it raised. Continue reading →

Holiday Party Invitation

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The deeper I look, the stranger stuff I find. This one’s an old party invitation. No really, this was the only text I included to describe the holiday party I invited friends to. It resulted in some confused guests, tentative RSVPs, and an amazing party. It’s kind of clunky, with some awkward word choices, but I think it would make a fun children’s book…I also keep laughing at how the Mill Fire keeps popping up often in my writing. The stories must all take place in the same universe.

Carl


The squirrel padded along the verdant path of needles and leaves. His friend, Hoofy the Clumsy Deer, followed close behind, occasionally tripping on a log or rock protruding from the snow-patched ground.

The squirrel’s name was Carl. “Catch up, Hoofy!” he called over his shoulder. They were already late, and being late made him grouchy. A lot of things made him grouchy since he quit smoking.

“I’m going as fast as I…”, Hoofy’s sentence was cut short by a strangled gasp as he caught his antlers in a low-hanging branch and his gangly legs went flying out from under him. He thrashed for a few seconds, scattering snow everywhere, then went still in defeat, awkwardly suspended from the branch by his antlers. Swaying and bobbing slowly, he sighed. “Um…a little help here?”

Carl snorted through his nose. He considered leaving the young fawn there. Serve him right. Getting caught like that, being careless, when they were already late. Especially today, a few days before Christmas, and on the way to the party! He needed a drink. Continue reading →

Escape Velocity

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This is an old piece I just found, dusted off. I don’t know why I’m posting something so melancholy on a morning when I woke up almost giddy. But I like it. Clearly I had read some Douglas Coupland before writing it.

I woke up this morning thinking about you. It was raining hard, the kind of rain that collides with the ground more than falls onto it, the kind that snaps twigs off of the new trees they just planted in Grant Park. I stumbled into the bathroom, stared in the mirror for a second (mornings are when I most look like my father), stumbled back into the bedroom, slept some more. I heard somewhere that sleeping too much means that something’s wrong, that we have all of these built-in triggers in our bodies to alert us to what’s going on inside, but we’ve learned as a species to ignore them. If I forced myself to sleep less, would I get healthier? Could I stop thinking about that call, then?

The phone woke me up around noon, the ringtone pealing into the empty apartment, the screen animated with a cartoon of a dancing phone, furrowed, angry eyebrows on its indeterminately-ethnic face. I hate that face. That cartoon means it isn’t you calling. Continue reading →

I Know Why Sand Wants To Be Glass, or, Handling Criticism Of What You Create

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The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot

A few days ago, I posted a couple of new paintings in a series that I announced in the post “Hello, I Have Seen Your Brain And Made Art From It“. The series is being created from some old MRI films that I acquired 10 years ago, which I originally thought were anonymous, old films that were being discarded, but then found private, current information with them. I thought the inspiration of the art was an interesting story worth telling, as I am just as invested in the process of making art as I am the final product. In the piece, I openly acknowledged the terrible breach of privacy that occurred, and my impulsive, selfish decision 10 years ago to keep the MRI films.

I posted the link to the story on Facebook, Twitter, and in the Art forum on Reddit, a web-aggregate site that I am using for the first time.

The reaction could not have been more intense. Continue reading →

“Hello, I Have Seen Your Brain And Made Art From It”

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“What Are Little Girls Made Of?” Frame 9

Ten years ago, I had an itch: I wanted to create a piece of art that incorporated an X-ray or MRI film in it. At the time, it was simply an extension of my lifelong obsession with the aesthetic of scientific equipment and medical ephemera. I had a coworker who also worked at a hospital adjacent to our workplace, and I asked her to obtain some X-ray films for me. At the time, I assumed that she would procure an old film that was going to be discarded. Instead, she gave me a recently taken MRI film, and that started a now 10-year-long obsession with someone whose brain I have seen, whose voice I have heard, but whose face I still do not know. Continue reading →