hollx025

My Earliest Feminist Memory

2008-05-02T04:31:23Z

I have considered myself a feminist for as long as I can remember, before I even knew what the term meant. One of my earliest memories of an actual conversation with my Grandma was when she asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said I wanted to be a firefighter. I loved being around fire and thought playing with the garden hose was super cool. As you can imagine, no one wants her little girl to grow up to be a firefighter.

]]> “What else do you want to be when you grow up?�? Grandma asked. “Everybody nowadays has two jobs.�?
I replied, “Like you?�?
She chuckled her little musical laugh, and said, “Well, I’ve had a great deal more than two.�?
I thought for a moment and said, “A firefighter. And a grandma.�?
A warm smile spread across her face and she asked my why I would want to be that. I proceeded to tell her about all the cool things she got to do. She got to teach kids at college, and go to banquets and speak in pretty dresses. About once a week she would stop by the jewelry store and see how the designs were coming along and set a diamond or two. At church she would often read during mass, and there was always a group of people that wanted to talk to her afterward. She went to gardening meetings and had ladies over for tea to chat twice a week. Each morning she would wake up early and run for miles and then in the evening she would strap me into the back of her bike and we would bike to the marsh with grandpa. She had a phone in her car and was always getting calls. Twice a month her sisters would meet at her house and all seven of them would leave for the afternoon and come back late at night trying to hold in their laughter. I pointed out that she had the best job in the world and got paid a lot of money for it. She had nice things and a nice house. She had half of the basement filled with filling cabinets that she often used. She mailed two handfuls of letters out each day and received more than that. I finished all out of breath with wide eyes.
“That’s not what a grandma does.�?
“What?!�? I was all confused.
“That’s what a businesswoman does.�?
“Well, then what does a grandma do?�?
“When I’m a grandma I just hang out with you.�?
“Well, never mind, then. I wouldn’t want to hang out with a little kid all day.�?
Grandma looked at me with her sparkling grin, “But that’s my favorite part of every day!�?
She didn’t have me convinced. “I think I’ll be your other job instead.�?
“Only if you still promise to be a grandma, too.�?
I paused a second, “Okay, I guess. …………And a firefighter?�?
“We’ll see about that one.�?

My Feminist Role Model

2008-05-02T04:28:36Z

Every female has a role model of some sort whether it is Oprah, Mother Teresa, or a favorite college professor. I feel bad for the women who never get to meet their idol. I not only got to meet mine, but mine raised me. If you read my earlier post you can probably guess whom this amazing lady is.

]]> My Grandma Lu grew up the 2nd oldest of ten kids. She was the oldest female in her family and had a lot of responsibility. With these responsibilities she strived. She graduated top of her class and received a full-ride to the Art Institute of Chicago. Something unheard of for women at the time. She was so excited and ready to leave, when her conservative father told her she would get disowned if she left the family. He told her to get a job in the canning factory instead. She was crushed, but the next day got a job at the factory and worked the summer. After only a few weeks in the hot factory she decided she was not going to do work like that for the rest of her life. She secretly applied to college in the nearest city and enrolled in the teaching program. When fall came she told her parents and her dad was furious! She was kicked out of the house, but still required to work 40 hours a week. Everyone said she would fail out, but each semester she mad it through. She worked the night shifts at the factory and lived with a family and helped nanny for the children in return for room and board. After a while she stashed away a bit of money to buy a car. Her dad found out about the car and would have her brother use it whenever he wanted. One weekend when Frank had a hot date she took her car and left for the weekend to try out for a modeling shoot. Her dad and brother refused to speak to her for a few weeks, but it paid off. She got the deal and started modeling, making enough money to pay off her tuition bills and help her sisters get out of the house. After a few years she met my grandpa, a shy scientist and they settled down and had seven children.
The years in between now and then are many and chalked full of great stories. There are triumphs and struggles. Each struggle makes me respect her more. A drunk driver hit her once in the 70’s and once in the 90’s. Both times she was bedridden for months. In the 80’s she ran for mayor and would have won, had she not pulled out because of a dirty campaign. In the late 80’s she was finally getting her house back after decades of children afoot, and I came along. My parents couldn’t take care of me at the time so she did. Grandma Lu was a college professor, and a jeweler, as well as a frequent stock trader/investor. She was making the most she had ever made in her career, and cut down when I was forced upon her. She took the time to teach me pretty much everything important that I know now.
In grade school I went back to my parents half time, returning most evenings and weekends. In middle school we started to drift apart and another crisis came along. My freshman year of high school I was severely hurt in an accident, and was on life support with my cousin for a few weeks. While at the hospital I found out that Grandma had cancer. She fought it, and barely made it. She had turned from this vibrant woman to and older lady right before my eyes. A year later it came back. Again she won. A year later there was a stroke. My friends brought her a medal to her hospital room that said “HERO�? and gave it to her when she woke up. She retired for good and cut back on a lot of things. I watched her struggle to attempt the crazy feats she had done before. Now she was finally acting like the other people her age. But she didn’t want that. It was not who she was supposed to be. So she tried harder. Her effort was always 110%. When she started forgetting things the doctors said it was just stress. A bad mix of the medicines. It should pass soon. Things kept getting worse. Finally we had to take her out of the area to get a neutral opinion. She has a rare disease that creates bone growth within her brain. In most cases it is terminal. She and I cried when the doctors told her. Grandpa just stood there. The quiet man always in her shadow said, “No. Not today, not tomorrow. You don’t know this lady. I do. And the day this woman loses a battle is a day I will never see.�?
Everyone in the room stared at him, like they knew how rare it was to hear him speak.

Somewhere in my heart I know he is right. He has to be. He can’t be wrong.
Three days ago I talked to Grandma Lu. It was one of her better days. We had a good conversation. 5 times. The same one. She decided on her own a few weeks ago to have a complex surgery. There are few people who make it through. But in the cases that have, their brains have worked to improve themselves, and the patients drastically get better over time. It’s her choice. And I think it’s the right one. I have never seen her be wrong.

The Larson Gallery – From the Other Side of the Fence

2008-05-02T04:26:40Z

Everyday I go to check my mailbox only to find that the only things I receive are pieces of junk mail, papers from the university, a waste of trees. It often gets to the point where I will go for days without checking it only to empty the metal box of its trash once a week. One day the junk mail was actually useful to me. It was a flier for a feminist art showing.

]]> The flier informed me that the showing was in the Larson Art Gallery, which is located just below the St. Paul Student Center. It featured the works of three artists: Ann Bartges, Colleen Lamb, and Joanna Catalfo. The exhibition would last from April 10-May 15. I thought this was a great opportunity, as I have a crazy schedule and then I could go when I wanted to go. The reception was April 10th, 6-8p.m. When I saw that there was free food, I made the time to go. I waited until that Thursday, switched a few things around at work, and hopped on a Campus Connector.
When I got to the gallery I walked in quickly with my usual fast stride. But then I stopped. This gallery was just one room! It was without a doubt the smallest gallery I had ever been in. I realized that in order to get the feel of the whole showing I had to examine every single piece. Unlike larger galleries, every single piece counted. The show would not be complete with out it.
Each of the artists had their different styles of art. I picked my favorite ones from each artist. “Passing Through the Shades of Day,�? (2008) by Ann Bartges was created primarily by Plexiglas. Embedded in the Plexiglas were silver painted milk pods, with pigment infused throughout the piece. It was built up around a brick tower. I liked this one the most because you could look at it for a long time and then come back to it and see something completely different than before/
My favorite piece from Colleen Lamb was “Karl, Mike, Steve, and Marc.�? (2007) This piece consisted of four sheets of paper with tiny holes punched in them. I liked it the best because it took me a while to figure out that it was four different styles of beards.
The last artist Joanna Catalfo was quite different from the rest. When most of the other pieces in the room were sculptures, hers were oil paintings on canvas. She had started doing primarily this style in the mid 1990’s as still life. I have three pieces here that I could not choose between. They were “Apple with Grapes,�? “Camera and Calla Lillies,�? and “Olives and Scallions.�? Each one had such vibrant colors and really held my attention.
Overall, I liked the showing. It was decent. I wouldn’t make the trip out there just to see it, but I would stop in if I had spare time on the St. Paul Campus.

Women Making Meaning: Moving Through the Cracks

2008-05-02T04:24:09Z

I agree and disagree with the main points that Bridget Mallon has established with a strong opinionated view. Since I am a women of this age, technology has become very popular and using the different types of technology that Mac, Dell, and big companies have come out with are beginning to be more familiar with the whole world, not just computer technologists. I’d say that the Internet is a very important part of today’s culture. Bridget Mallon states that, “Idealogy and culture are located in communication,�? I agree with this statement because teenagers and even middle class people are using the Internet more and more for their social lives. Women especially use the Internet more than males for their social lives. Things like Facebook, Myspace, and chat rooms have become popular with the women society. There are a lot of things on the Internet that can be viewed as offensive in the women society though. I do agree with Mallon when she talked about raciality and harassment on the Internet. These things take place on websites, group chats, etc. I think that the association between women and the Internet is becoming more positive as the new technological era of our world grows. People may have their assumptions about women and technology but I think that it’s all waste of time to debate because every feminist is different and they al have their different views.

Project Progress 5-1

2008-05-02T04:22:12Z

My project is not coming along as well as I hoped. A lot of the video did not turn out, and the past 2 weekends that I wanted to shoot the weather did not cooperate. I have a lot of still pictures of games and individuals that I will be using. I am thinking that I will mesh a documentary and a digital storytelling piece together. I have gotten pretty far with this. I have 100’s of pictures to sort through and have gotten through many of them. I am revising my voice over and hope to be done by May 2nd. My goal for the entire video project is to be done the night of May 3rd, with the back up day being the evening of May 4th. I really am doing my best to set aside the time that I will need for the project now. I just got through a few crazy weeks of exams and am spending the next week primary on this class and project. I can’t wait to see the result!

I can never be Judy Chicago.

2008-05-01T23:31:03Z

My life lately has been chaotic. I am falling behind in all of my classes, and stressing out about everything. I feel most days that I have to choose between school and family, between work and friends. I remember the Judy Chicago video when one of the artists discussed with her that she felt she had to choose between her art and her family. I thought Judy was rather rude when she said that the woman could be a mother or an artist, but not both. It was a rather bold statement! I have always felt that women can multi-task better than men, and mothers of all people certainly seem to have mastered this task.

]]> This week has been hell. This week has been the week where I realized multitasking does not exist. Judy Chicago was right. I had to choose. I’m working 36 hours this week, am taking 18 credits, have papers, and exams, projects, and quizzes. Put on top of that the rugby team and my academic workload is stacked. Normally I think I would be able to handle this, but real life also exists for me. I’m dealing with severe epilepsy, averaging 7-8 seizures a day, most of them being full out. I decided not to take the medicine because the side effects are too great. I would become sleepy, unable to concentrate, and have severe mood swings. A few weeks before finals and I can’t take any of those chances. Also adding stress to my life is the looming surgery that I will have after the end of the semester. I haven’t really told many people about it, as I don’t want my friends and family worried about me. I really wish I would tell someone, but I don’t want to inconvenience them. As much as I appreciate being the go-to person for family and friends, an inconvenience is what I would consider it lately. I am seven people’s emergency contact. Of those, two are my parents, both of which have mental illnesses and are recovering alcoholics. My brother still lives at home and I am also his. He is severely allergic to many things, but always has been careful about it. His main problem right now is a high school teacher that is making his life a living hell for my mistakes. (I dodged expulsion for a few things that were pretty bad-ass if I do say so myself!) The worst part is that my brother is nothing like me and the unfairness directed towards his is difficult for me to deal with. Another of my EC’s is my sister Maria. She is a college sophomore and also stressing out about finals. Her main issue is that a week after finals she leaves for Kenya to do volunteer work for the summer. Yes she gets credits, and a bucket of water a day, but Hello! There is a war going on there!
Now, all is not bad right? I always have had a good support system. I wake up everyday knowing that if I have a problem there are at least 5 people in my phone I could call up and talk to. My closest friend from high school? On a boat, in the Navy, in the Pacific. My closest friend from college? Well, I set her up with another friend of mine a few months back, and her girlfriend just cheated on her. Oops. My bad. The ex-bf? Doing Katrina relief. He’ll Facebook message me back in a week. My closest co-worker from home? Crashed her car and has been too angry to answer her phone in a week and a half. That only leaves the one person from home that has always been there for me. Grandma Lu. When I hit this point in my contact list in my phone I always start to tear up. I haven’t had an actual conversation with her since spring break. Or I’ll have a decent conversation, but I’ll have it multiple times with her.
I think back to what Judy Chicago says. I have to choose. I am not an artist. But I am a student. My schoolwork is my art. If I were a good artist I would put my art first. And I realize that I don’t. I should. But sometimes life happens. I have a family that has always relied on me. I have friends that I have promised to always be there for. Never before have I been this overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I am not dedicated enough to be an artist. Maybe now is not my time for art. One thing for sure I would never measure up to Judy Chicago’s standards. Perhaps this is why I did not like her. I know I can never be life her. I will always put others before me, make their problem's mine, and let life intervene.

What is Feminism to Me?

2008-05-01T23:28:31Z

Feminism is strong, independent, and bold. It’s standing up for what you believe in even if it means you are standing alone. It’s that single mom working 3 jobs to support her kids and give them the opportunities that she never had. It’s the female basketball coach that stays up late watching tapes of other teams, and creating new plays. It’s the professional businesswoman that gets paid a portion of the men’s salaries, but still wakes up every morning ready to tackle a new project. It’s any woman that’s ever been called a bitch, slut, or dyke and resented it. It’s any female that’s ever been looked down on because of the clothes she was wearing, when any man could have put in less effort towards his outfit and be fine. It’s any woman that is late for every appointment when she spent that time on her looks. Because she doesn’t have the confidence to leave her house without make up because she thinks she’s not ‘pretty enough.’ It’s any woman that spends $180 on highlights and a cut, hoping that when she goes out to the bars the guys she meets notices her hair first and not her eyes. Her eyes filled with exhaust from trying so hard with no results. It’s the chemist that puts in 80+ hours a week, spending overtime leaning over test tubes and microscopes because she’s just not comfortable with the bar scene. Feminism is that crazy cat lady who doesn’t give a damn about men or relationships and can have a great afternoon knitting and watching Oprah with her cats, being completely content. Feminism is when you cried out loud when the gay marriage ban passed in Wisconsin. Because decades ago you fought for your rights, too.
Feminism is the little girl who cries on the edge of the sandbox because she wants to play with the trucks and the boys. It’s the little girl who dresses up in white and dreams of her wedding and the Prince Charming she hopes will be there. It’s the teenager that stays home from her prom because she doesn’t have a date, and it’s the court member that wonders how she got on because of the things she had said about others. It’s the college freshman struggling alone in a big city, and the one that realized she is fine with a long-distance relationship because she didn’t love him as much as she thought she did. It’s the woman in her mid-thirties petrified because menopause started early for her, and it’s the lady in her fifties that realized unplanned pregnancies and painful periods were good trade-offs for a decreased sex drive. Feminism is the woman in her 70’s that picks her head up and moves forward when her best friend of 50 years dies. It’s the 90 year-old ladies that realize all the men their age are dead and wishing that they had used better skin care so they could attempt to hit on the ‘hot young 70 year-olds.’ It’s the women that get called gay because they are introverts and don’t like playing the desperate card. It’s the one’s that get called it and laugh, because they’re pretty sure everyone else already knew.
Feminism is every mother, daughter, sister, friend, aunt, niece, and idol. It’s in all of us all the time. Not always as prevalent as it should be, nor as hidden as it could be. But it’s there in all shapes and sizes, just like the packages that embody it.

Who Symbolizes American Feminism?

2008-05-01T23:24:50Z

For as long as I can remember I have interpreted the American feminist icon as Rosie the Riveter. I have to admit that out of all the female cartoons from that era, Rosie is definitely the coolest and most “bad ass.�?

]]> I don’t know of a wmoan who calls herself feminist that doesn’t know who Rosie is. You’ve probably seen the yellow poster with her phrase, “We can do it!�? Howard Miller painted that image in 1942. I was surprised to find out that this poster does not show the real origional Rosie! Sometime in the 1970’s this image was labeled wrong and has since received credit for being Rosie.
Rosie started as a symbol during WWII as the working woman. When the men were off fighting about 6 million women worked in industrial plants, fighting the war at home, keeping the economy alive, and supplying the armies. Women in these jobs were still paid drastcally less than the men. After the war ended the women lost their jobs to the men who returned. That is the part of the story that has always bothered me. Yes, at the time, the men supported the families. But at the same time many men died in the war, so did this mean that the widows lost their jobs?
I think of Rosie much like the male version of Uncle Sam. While Uncle Sam was said to be the patriotic character behind the enlistment, I feel Rosie was the patriotic drive symbol behind women in industry. And patriotic symbol or not, I think she’s still pretty bad-ass!

Who Symbolizes American Feminism?

2008-05-01T23:24:50Z

The Digital Queer: Weblogs and Internet Identity

2008-04-22T03:27:21Z

When choosing a quote, I wanted to choose one that I found interesting. After choosing one I realized that the one I chose wasn’t really interesting at all. But that was exactly why it was so interesting to me.

]]> “I thought that I would get a lot of variety in terms of blog content this way, but I didn’t.�? (Pg 178) This was said on her blog findings. She searched for blogs using the terms gay, queer, bisexual, lesbian, transsexual, and searched for collections of queer and GLBT blogs. Of these that she searched she closely read 40 of them and read through over 100 more. None of them seemed to vary significantly. For a community that seems to be made up of so many different types of individuals I found it hard to believe that they were all alike. But then I thought about it more. Even though I haven’t actively searched for GLBT blogs online I do see where Julie Rak is coming from on her findings. For the Digital Storytelling project where we had to find two digital stories I decided to search for stories of gay and lesbian couples. To do this I went to a GLBT blog site and found YouTube links to some stories. I watched many stories and they all had the same storyline. It was a lot of stuff that I had heard before. Man meets man, falls in love, can’t get married, and has fewer rights than other citizens. There are struggles to overcome and the law makes it impossible to overcome them. The lesbian stories had the same plot. As did the queer, bisexual, and transsexual stories.
I am afraid that this might be the same case with many feminist bloggers. What if people read a few feminist blogs and after a while they all start to sound the same? What happens if the blogs are read, and then the reader cannot differentiate them from other posts that they had read? Will feminists still be able to get their point across? Will readers still listen? Or has the web become an ineffective vessel in which we used to be able to use effectively?

Once again I am falling behind........

2008-04-22T03:04:13Z

Ever notice that once you allow yourself to fall behind it is so much harder to catch up?

Well that is the case with me. There are so many things happening in my life right now that I put school on the back burner. Now with a few more weeks left in the semester, I am kicking myself for taking the amount of credits that I did. I am disappointed in myself for how I am doing. Disappointed in the system also. The U is a tricky place. I'd like to do so much more, but always seem to be held back. Take for instance my final project.

]]> I wanted to do a rugby video on the lack of funding our team receives from the U. Members on the team feel that there are many reasons for that, one of them being the sexuality preferences of many of the athletes that play. I wanted to highlight on those two main points in my documentary.
I found out this would not happen. The U doesn't allow our treasurer to disclose to anyone the amount of money that we receive from them. The only amount I received when asked was, "pathetic." We have a coach that also coaches the national team. She is known internationally, yet we are not allowed to pay her! Even if we all pitch in money, the "club members" are unable to pay the group leader. I find this so frustrating. She has coached us for 8 years and drives from Menominee, WI to coach us. We recently learned that she is stepping down as coach. And as disappointing as it is it's also completely understandable. The monetary issue infuriates me! I could talk on about it more in depth, but I won't.
The sexuality topic I am more understanding about. I thought it would be interesting to do the video on this, as their are a wide variety of people on the team. However, I understand that some people are uncomfortable about talking about it. It is their personal life and I can respect that.
A good artist pushes their own boundaries, not others'. And this artist is going to have to find a way around the rules to get a meaningful message across.

My Trip to the Walker

2008-04-11T08:17:30Z

I have fallen behind a little on personal posts, and am trying my best to catch up. I would like to take this opportunity to recognize some one who has opened my eyes not only to feminist art, but to all art. I went to the Walker to with the intent to look at a little bit of art, write a paper, and be done with it. I walked out of there with so much more.

]]> Remember that cold snowy, slushy Monday a few weeks back? Well, that was the day I did my assignment. The day before it was due, and I trekked down to the Walker to do this project. I rode a city bus for the first time, which was quite the ordeal. Any normal person would have thought to bring a map, but that didn't really occur to me. I finally made it there: tired, cold, and cranky. I looked at the showing dates and learned that most museums were not open Mondays, the Walker included. I was devastated, and just about to turn around, when a man came to the door. He opened it and informed me that the Walker was closed on Mondays, and then invited me into the entryway to warm up a bit before heading back. We started chatting and I soon learned he was Steve Jensen, head of security for the Walker. After a few minuted he told me to hang around for a bit while he went to check something out.
Soon he came back and asked me if I still wanted to see the showing. Thus began my private tour. He led me to the Friedman Gallery where JoAnn Verburg's photography showing was. He turned on the lights and background music and told me to take my time. We went opposite directions when viewing the show, each of us for the first time. When I got to the end he commented on how quick I viewed it. I explained that I merely had to write an opinion paper. I soon learned that life isn't just the assignment, but the experience. If I wanted just a paper out of it, I could get that. But with just a little effort, I could get so much more. What could have taken me 15 minutes soon spanned over and hour and a half.
And there is no doubt in my mind that it was worth it. I really learned to appreciate art for the first time in my life. Also I had a renewed faith in humanity. What started out as a small favor turned into so much more. I could go on for hours about how amazing and meaningful that short experience was. But I won't. I'll save you the reading and have faith. It's a new thing I am trying.

My Reflection of "The Struggle"

2008-03-11T18:01:33Z

My digital storytelling piece is entitled “The Struggle.�? It is about a bizarre dream that constantly reoccurs for me. Many psychologists believe that our dreams tell us much about ourselves and can help make sense of our lives. I never realized how true this might be.

]]> In my voiceover throughout the piece I describe the dream, as best as I know how. My favorite reflective instrumental plays in the background. The hardest part was putting in the visual clips. I had originally started with different pictures and a different plan, but the story took a hold of me and seemed to tell itself. I soon realized that I would have to look elsewhere for meaningful pictures. Finally I settled with images from the main struggle in my life, my recent head injuries.
I had many problems with the images, trying to capture them with my camera. After many hours of effort I realized that I could scan the actual documents into my video. I went through the doctors’ notes and any other related papers and scanned them in. There are documents of the hospital visits and then documents of the repercussions from the head injuries. This may be a video that the viewer has to see more than once to get the full story. The viewer must be able to piece together the petition to drop classes, lost driver’s license, and AWOL from work, to see that they are all direct effects of the injuries. Theses start from the initial date of the head injuries to just a couple weeks ago. My biggest fear in putting this piece out there is that the viewer won’t be able to see the correlations. I don’t want my message to fall short.
This project caused me to stop and reflect on my life. When I finished I saw how hard I had worked. I felt how proud I was of my project. I also felt how afraid I was that my message would not be conveyed across to the depth that it was intended. I realized that I really cared about getting my message out there. This is quite shocking to me. When I finished and watched the final video I actually felt moved. And then I felt a huge epiphany. This head injury is not okay. Everyday I wake up and tell people that I am fine. I tell myself I am fine. I tell myself that 3-5 seizures a day is normal and it will go away. I tell myself any line that I can to make it through the day. But this is not okay! It is not normal, nor is it healthy. All of the struggles I have gone through are big deals. They are huge in retrospect. They are not okay.
And finally I am realizing that. I am not okay. These things are not okay. Finally I have come to peace with that. I am okay with the fact that I am actually not okay. I realized I cannot be everything perfect. The best effort that I can put in, even when it yields the best possible results, will never be good enough for me. I may not get better in this struggle. I may not win. But I will stand up and try again.
I am okay with the fact that it is a struggle I will never win. But I will keep trying because it is the only way I know. Until that day when I tie my ladder and manage to climb away from my problems this struggle will continue. My biggest fear is that I will only be able to let go of the strings temporarily. I wish I were strong enough to find a way out of the tunnel and leave all strings behind. I just can’t see that happening.
Even though one can make no progress in a vacuum I feel that I have. I have never been very artistic, which I think may be because I keep my feelings boxed up. In the past month I have learned a lot about feminist art. Today I realized that maybe the art is not about the art, but about the artist instead. I often forget that people make art for themselves, not others. This often causes me to be overly critical of others’ pieces. Feminist media is a liberal topic, well named because for the media maker it is liberating.
In the Reflections reading, Chapter 2 my favorite line is, “…their pictures are made, not taken.�? I found this to be true on many levels. Although my images are not the average images being used in these projects I made them just the same. I may not have typed out the patient prescription information, but I did copy, cut, and highlight it, making it into the image that I needed it to be. I made each image exactly they way I wanted it to be, in order to portray it the best way I knew how. I tried to get the most out of every picture and I feel I succeeded.
The images were not the only thing that required my effort. The script I had written was too long and wordy, as most of my peers let me know. I shortened it and revised constantly. I referred to Lambert’s “Digital Storytelling,�? Chapter 4 when editing. The mentioned index card activity had worked wonders, so I saw what else he had to say. Each section within the chapter had helped me when I originally wrote the paper, and it helped me again near the end. “Getting to the Scene�? helped me move my piece along. “Character Studies and Personal Story�? helped build the guidelines my piece needed. But the last section is what really gives my piece its true character. In bold, the third paragraph starts, “What works is truth.�? This rule, which is often true in everyday live, is the foundation and underlying theme of my story. The truth is my struggles are not okay. It is the truth I was hiding from everybody else. The truth I was hiding from myself. It was the truth I desperately needed to see. The truth that I finally have.

Images For Digital Storytelling

2008-02-26T17:51:45Z

When I heard about the assignment I had no idea what I was going to do. I just moved to Minneapolis, and I don't know the city very well. I also don't associate myself with it. It's not me, and I hope it never will be me. I feel like everything that is me is back in Wisconsin. Everyday I wake up feeling like I don't belong here, feeling like a person I do not know.
So how was I supposed to make a digital story on my life? And in a week? The way I left home, I had left without most of my things. Everything that truly defines me is 6 hours away.

Or so I thought. Even though I have changed drastically into a person I barely recognize, a few things have stayed with me.

]]> One of these traits is the constant chaos in my life. I started my life at the bottom, and it is a constant struggle towards the top. I am always preparing for tomorrow. I used to be able to live for today and plan for tomorrow, but now it is just for tomorrow.
While the chaos tries to consume my life I try to fight it. I struggle to maintain strict order and some sort of control over the aspects in my life. I realized that as chaotic as I seem to be, I am also very anal in other ways.
I was thinking about how my life seems to be spinning out of control, when I walked into my room one night last week. I sat down on my futon, after I hung up my coat, and carefully put my shoes back in their place. I sat there and breathed out, exhausted from the day, and not looking forward to the long night ahead of me. I looked at my desk, with its resemblance to a junkyard. As a student the one most important thing is schoolwork, and there was no way that any work would ever get done there! I looked at it and thought that was exactly how my life felt.
And then I wondered, "How did no one else seem to see me as this?" The chaos in my life seems evident, but not many people treat me as a person trying to climb a slippery slope. But then I looked around the rest of my room and realized how it appeared. The clothes in my closet are alphabetized and then color-coded. My shoes are lined up perfectly under the futon, and my fridge filled with its bottles of water and Red Bull scares me with its near-perfect order.
But that is my life. It is chaotic. I put on this facade where nearly everything is in order and going well. 95% of things look kosher while the other 5% in terrible. People see the 95% and think that I am doing pretty well.
They don't know that the 5% is the biggest part.

Reframings: New American Feminist Photographies

2008-02-19T11:29:29Z

The aims and goals of this collection were hard for me to pick out at first. But then I realized that this anthology was one big feminist project. The photos depicted different images of the feminist life. Many different topics and issues were included in the collection whether they were obvious of a subliminal message. Some of the photos captured me with their strong issues. I would stare at the photos trying to take it all in. These photographs really proved that pictures tell a thousand words.

]]> Another goal was representation. One artist, Margaret Stratton, photographed items from her mother’s house that she thought represented not only her mother, but also the ideal housewife. Domesticity was the overwhelming factor in these photos. They were objects in the common household, but they were also objects that were and still are primarily associated with women. This also indicated a key issue in the book, identity. She identified her mother with kitchen appliances. Maybe it is just me, but I don’t know any women that would like being identified with kitchen appliances.

Distribution was another goal that I thought was prevalent in this book. Carla Williams called attention to race and exploitation of the female body. Williams was driven to speak out because of Saartjie Baartman’s exploitation in the 1800’s. Not only was it exploited in the 1800’s, but throughout most of the 20th century. This called attention to the history in feminism. I feel that history plays a big factor in feminism. The key issues in the past are still sometimes the issues of our futures. Williams often examined racist theory in her photos through the use of thought provoking pictures of black women.

Other key theories that were mentioned in the book were sexuality, and the media. Chapter 6 really tuned into the topic of queer sexuality. It focused on homosexual places in society, the definition of family, and homophobia. Homophobia is a social disease. The media for centuries has focused on the perfect family. In the popular sitcom “I Love Lucy�? the main characters were a husband and wife couple, Lucy and Ricky. Imagine the uproar if the two parents had been Lucy and Rose. Then imagine that they adopted their two children. It would never have happened. Society was not ready to except it then, as it is still not ready to fully accept it now. This show is also a good example of gender and culture roles.

The issues of gender and culture roles were also brought up in Reframings in Chapter 7, Turning the Tables: Three Asian American Artists. This section showed mass media’s portrayal of people of Asian descent. In class a video clip was showed, that proved media and current art still subjected Asians to cultural critique.

Out of all the key theories that I took with me from this collection I would have to say that media and sexuality would win out. Chapter 4 was very informative on this subject. It focused on colonial gays and photography. There were no tricks to the lighting, but instead the photographs tried to tell the story straight. This I greatly appreciated because the media today often alters and airbrushes photographs of women. I believe that by doing this it depersonalizes the women and makes her less of an individual, and more of an object. I think the focus should be on more of an individualistic view of how you see you own body. The media makes this highly impossible.

The last chapter, Representing Women: The Politics of Self-Representation wraps up the anthology. Individualism is focused upon for women, as well as self-representation. It tied together the previous chapters and reviewed the main points.

The main points were well focused and covered in depth. Identity, sexuality, race, history, and the media make up the art in the world today. These traits are the building blocks of feminist art. They are what create the images that jump of the canvas and stimulate our emotions. The interpretation of these traits defines feminist art.

I feel that we did this collectively because of the interpretations that others might have on the artwork. Everyone views a piece slightly different than the next person. Feminism is partially about understanding, whether it is cultural views or others’ opinions. By working in pairs we were able to see where the other person was going with their views and get opinions that we wouldn’t have gotten if we would have read it alone. This way of learning also focuses on interdependence. We had to rely on other people to get the information that we needed to know. Throughout history and prior feminist movements interdependence was needed. No one can create a movement on their own. Alone we are one, but together we are many.