Posts Tagged ‘modeling’

Goodnight, Grandma P.

Friday, May 30th, 2014

In addition to directing the performances this year, I have two small pieces of work that were juried into the Festival (first time), and have modeled for Jim Wilkinson’s installation “Stall”, as well as being the model in the photograph Jim Duvall chose to be in the show as his Masters of Erotic Art piece in the festival.

Today I am most thankful, however, that no matter how stressed or overstretched the task may mean I am, each performance production I direct invariably gives me at least one opportunity to console and remind a troubled artist (as well as myself) that I do what I do because art heals.

Break many legs, and have a great Seattle Erotic Art Festival, everyone.

Birthrights: An exploration of Transition

Saturday, December 28th, 2013

Photograph by Scott Steffy, 2013

Introduction

I have an idea for a studio photo series which would be different than anything I’ve done before, involving taking images of (LOTS OF OTHER) people, who have given birth. I’m curious if my mother friends would be interested in being a part of realizing it.

Synopsis

Here are the particulars as I’ve brainstormed them thus far, with the concept and nuances still developing:

I’d like to create a series of images depicting the objectification of the area of the body most visually effected by your pregnancy, somewhat similar to this one.

As part of the image creation, I would like to interview you regarding the first thought that went through your mind when you awoke that first day, with a baby. By exploring this moment in your past we will agree upon a short phrase, in your words, to either paint on your body or caption in some other fashion (I have yet to decide), before shooting your image.

This project will include nudity; always tasteful, often implied. Depending on your situation, it may not be required that you be naked during the shoot, however it is my goal to not have any clothing showing in the pictures to express the vulnerability and rawness of the psychological component of the work. Similarly, it is unlikely that your face or identifying features will be present in the photographs.

Examples of my photographic work can be found at http://neevita.net/category/visual-art/photography/.

 

Scope of the project

Birthrights is a personal pet for now, I will not be paying models, who will be required to sign a model release and provide a copy of their photo identification.

If the concept proves successful my intention is to show the work in exhibitions, and the work may be submitted to the Seattle Erotic Art Festival. I also consider the potential of creating a coffee table book or other forms of media if the scope of the project warrants it.

 

Available Shoot dates

I will be shooting for this project in my Pioneer Square studio in Seattle, WA. I currently have the following dates open:

Noon, Saturday February 15th
Noon, Saturday February 22nd

 

FAQ

Q: How long will my photoshoot and interview take?
A: About an hour, give or take.

Q: I am [insert age here] and it’s been [insert years here] since I gave birth; Would you want me for your project?
A: Yes.

Q: Should I wear makeup to the shoot?
A: Not required, but if you’re more comfortable in it, by all means. I will not be using MUA for this project.

Q: I’ve had multiple children. Are you interested in my participation?
A: Yes, though we will focus on the experience of your giving birth to your first child.

Q: My body isn’t really all that obviously different from before now that I’ve given birth; Do you want me for your project?
A: Maybe. The idea here is to express transition in both visual and emotional/mental ways that are abstractly relatable and thought provoking, hence the objectification of your body and the distillation of your waking experience to a few choice words. If your perception of part of your body changed significantly due to having been pregnant/given birth, it may qualify, even if physically there isn’t much of a visual difference.

 

Submit to participate

If you’re interested in participating in this project please email courtnee@neevita.net with the following:

SEAF 2013

Monday, August 5th, 2013

Disclaimer: After a long week on my feet, I am a bit fried mentally, more than a bit exhausted physically, and yet still rather awake and energetic. My creativity is in the shitter, though, so if you’re hoping for poetry unfortunately I doubt you’ll find much this time. You will, however, find a blog entry about my experience performance directing for the Seattle Erotic Art Festival this year, and a little bit of a backstory as to why that’s kind of a Big Deal for me. Also; I speak only for myself on this blog, and do not represent any official stance of the FSPC or SEAF directorial committee here. Enjoy.

Well, that was really something!

This year’s Seattle Erotic Art Festival had us returning to one of my favorite festival venues – the Showbox Sodo – which, at the time of our last occupation in 2007, was the Fenix. The Showbox had the best facilities and friendliest staff of any venue I’ve worked in, ever. They were wonderful and contributed highly to my enjoyment this weekend.

After many years of vastness and what became a disproportionate focus on spectacle performance art and dance parties, it feels to me now that SEAF has again embraced its roots as an *ART* festival. Though the event wasn’t perfect (um, we seriously need to strike those walkway tables after 10pm next year – great when there’s 100 people, not so much when there’s more.), I would be hard pressed to be more pleased with the results of our hard work this year.

Up until 11pm, patrons could browse, hold a conversation, ask about the artwork and purchase pieces without being interrupted, or having to scream over loud thumping music. During our after-parties when we’d raised the volume some, patrons never had the lights illuminating the artwork shut off on them and were still capable of browsing and buying, and were never forced to pay attention to anything they didn’t want to.

The artwork was the best I’ve ever seen at the festival, which is including the catalogues from previous years in which I did not attend. Most of the pieces that weren’t really my style had a clear validity and seemed to belong in the festival regardless of my personal preferences. I think I only truly disliked perhaps two. The film exhibition, which I unfortunately had absolutely no personal experience with due to it being offsite (I’d like to see the films onsite, or staggered next year with the visual art festival on another weekend), was spoken of incredibly highly and sold very well.

My absolute favorite parts?

In addition to this, I directed a suite of beautifully organic and diverse performances that included many shapes, sizes, and colors that complimented the art, captivated our audience and helped maintain a dignified, elegant and erotic atmosphere.

My team was impressive, I had an excellent stage manager, and every single one of my performers made me look really fucking good.

In addition to that, my workload was reasonable enough that I got to have a lot of fun at the festival, both during my tenor as a director and after my performances were finished. The vibe in the venue was positive, and everywhere I looked patrons were smiling and happily chatting. I even spent a bit of time at the bootblacking station overseeing most of the venue, smiling, watching people slowly pour in through the cash doors.

And boy do I fucking love being on a headset!

These are only my vanity pictures. To see the other amazing pictures of the festival check out SEAF’s flickr stream and be sure to log in to see the ‘adult’ ones with buttcrack and boob.

SEAF for me carries a long backstory with many deep layers, in regards to my individual growth in sexuality, as an event director/performer, and in terms of healing from an abusive relationship. I was first involved in the festival as a model in an accepted piece in 2003, and nearly every year since then.

From 2005-2008 I contributed to SEAF directly as a performer, patron and director. After the 2008 festival, in which I had directed aerial performances and performed, I stepped away from SEAF during a bad breakup with the Performance Director at the time, who had eyes on directing the Festival.

When we split up, we were both heavily involved in SEAF and the Little Red Studio together. In the separation, though we never officially divided things, I basically got LRS, and in turn got Obsidian (If you don’t know about that show, you probably should.), and he got SEAF, and with that, the Director title he’d wanted, eventually.

I was angry, hurting, mentally dismantled, and felt left out by cutting myself off. I was also busy with my own creative endeavors, and really, I had no choice but to leave given the circumstances.

Over the years, I heard through the grapevine of the changes being made to the festival, how it had become bigger, more glitzy, more stage show, bigger, bigger, bigger, and less focused on the artwork or feeling like an art festival.

In 2011, I submitted artwork, a performance proposal and returned in a limited capacity under the direction of Eva Luna as an ambient performance artist, with my most estranged year away being 2012 in which I strenuously returned to having no involvement.

I had no idea how much I missed SEAF, in part due to these changes I didn’t agree with and my bitterness toward the person making them, until I was capable of returning in a directorial capacity when my ex left on bad terms in December. I wrote after being invited to the first planning meeting I’d been to in 5 years;

It’s funny, when something is simply off the table, how disconnected with missing being involved in it you can be. – http://blog.neevita.net/archives/13498

I had forgotten that SEAF, when available to me, is one of the few places I absolutely, without doubt or apology, belong.

My reentry has been validating, satisfying and very fruitful after a rough start in preproduction earlier this year. I can attest with no hesitation that we pulled off a miracle given the circumstances and logistical/administrative turbulence we all went through.

One of my favorite things to do right now is marvel at how impressively all the people who remained involved stepped up and gave this event everything they had. We worked together naturally and without any pettiness, arguments or personal difficulty that I could see. Everyone was amazing at their jobs and awesome to work with.

I am so thrilled that I stuck with this through my storm of concerns over the last few months. I have learned a lot in the past 6 weeks and grown as an event director as well as personally through this experience. I really just can’t express in words how lovely it is to be back, or how proud I am of what the festival has become/returned to being.

As the smoke clears I can see that the occurrences which lead me away for a while had also saved me from the corrosive aspect of the learning experiences the org went through during the time my ex was in charge, and for that I’m thankful. Had I still been working on SEAF since 2009, regardless of my personal feelings regarding him, knowing myself as I do, I suspect I would have been worn of it and have moved on by now, just as it’s getting good again.

Instead, I get the best of both worlds – I didn’t have to continue working with him, didn’t have to be around him, I got to take a break and focus on my own work and artistry, put on some amazing shows, created an arts nonprofit, nurtured my massage and gallery business, and now I have the ability to reap the benefits of his work and what was learned from his mistakes regardless. Thanks, dude!

Now Extrovert Entertainer Whip-cracking Chatty Me fades into the background, and Tender Introverted Drained Me begins her recovery from intense connection fatigue and activity of the last few days. I connected with a LOT of people in profound and significant ways, my feet are killing me, and I am very, very tired.

For now, I will be behind the scenes again for a while, tending to myself, my personal creative work, and processing through the emotional impact of a very big few days – which includes being rather elated and prideful of my accomplishments, and planning my strategy for next year.

It feels good to be back to what was my element for a long time, and to again embrace it as a keen expression of who I am and who I want to be in the world.

Mute Photo Concept: digital artwork

Monday, June 17th, 2013

Photographed by Mute Photo Concept in Stockholm, Sweden and post processed by me

If London is a watercolor, New York is an oil painting.

Wednesday, June 12th, 2013

“For in that city there is neurosis in the air which the inhabitants mistake for energy.” ― Evelyn Waugh

The New York subway has its own distinctive scent, like a cocktail of black tar and metal shavings, that I immediately find familiar and comforting every time I retun. You’d think it would mostly smell like pee and refuse, but for the most part it doesn’t.

I was periodically thankful for having that sense memory, and generally a lot of time, the half dozen or so instances I took the train in the wrong direction during the week I was visiting; also a bit of a staple experience for me here.

In the first day I was back, I remembered one of the reasons I considered moving to New York City – all the free stuff on the streets! Within a few blocks of walking a neighborhood, there’s always some motley crew plethora of building materials, toys, electronics, old furniture (much of it antique) and, of course, actual trash laying around. I remember fantasizing about having to purchase nearly nothing for my shoebox apartment should I have moved, back in 2005.

I also remembered one of the reasons why I decided not to move to New York City; There’s, uh, fucking trash everywhere. And with trash, comes vermin, which is also everywhere, including squashed on the streets and scurrying across all manner of floors, sometimes even near my stuff. Humph.

Slow Start

For various reasons, including working my way through the antibiotics I started in Sacramento and actually getting a ton of shit done in between, I spent a couple entire days in PJ’s (or rather, the clothes I slept in, because I didn’t really bring PJ’s) without going out or eating much of anything. With the exception of a few days in which I had plans already, I found that I didn’t have the motivation to do much, and was rather steadily depressed with a few spikes of life in between.

Sitting alone in a small, tidy NYC diner. A white nondescript plate of steaming corned beef hash that most certainly came from a can sits half eaten in front of me, its ridiculous portion blanketed in eggs over medium. I’m listening to Dido seeping from the ceiling, remembering my trip to Toronto when I listened to her a lot. The cold, mostly, and the alone time on the vibrating street cars. My heart is lighter than yesterday, allowing for sweet sadness to spread to my throat and the furrow of my brow. A small wise smile finishes the edges of my lips that feels like a gate to the knowing field. Everybody seems to want to ask me about myself. Perhaps it’s because they know, too. I’ll stay here until the plate is clear. Two more rest periods, I’ll bet. – June 7, 2013

It rained as much as it was nice while here, complete with the signature humidity of an NYC summer, but thankfully it never got agonizingly hot. On the few days it never stopped raining I pretty much hung out in bed with Bejeweled, which I had played for the first time on the plane ride out.

That said, there were plenty of standout times, starting with seeing my friend Rob Paravonian (for the first time in like 6 years) opening and MCing for his friend Liam McEneane’s live show taping at Union Hall in Brooklyn, the day after I arrived. They’re both funny as shit and super sweet – buy their stuff.

Saturday

On Saturday I went to FIGMENT NYC with Donia, my friend from Seattle whom I originally learned fire spinning from, and my host in NYC. FIGMENT is a giant not for profit public collective interactive free-for-all art event on Governors Island, an amazing retired military base converted into a public park, complete with dozens of huge, gorgeous Victorian era houses and lots of green hilly things. The weather, thankfully, was perfect for it.

The day before FIGMENT (a Friday that was lost to the rain and the comfort of Donia’s guest bed), after looking over the website and really liking what I saw, I sent a little introduction mail through their contact form explaining a small portion of my background in the arts and non-profit work and expressing my interest in putting on a FIGMENT event in Seattle. To my surprise, I was quickly responded to by the Executive Producer and given contact information to be utilized when I arrived.

Within about 3 hours of meeting, wandering, philosophizing and effectively interviewing one another, I was given a nametag, shirt, and was being introduced as “working on Seattle”. Suddenly, I had plans to return for the second day to attend the producers brunch in the morning, which I did, and it was pretty glorious too. One of the things that traveling to the east cost illuminates is just how fucking passive aggressive and flakey people in Seattle are. It’s a wonder anything ever gets the fuck done.

I feel confident that there is intense possibility here, though. Many more things need to fall into place before I know exactly where I fit into the Seattle plans with FIGMENT, however, it’s safe to assume based off my experience with the organizations core assets and many representatives from other areas, including Washington D.C., Boston, Chicago, and even Australia, that it’s rather likely I will be involved in some sort of leadership role in the process. (Unless, of course, I decide to stay in Sweden.)

Hack tha planet, bitchez

After my first day of FIGMENT, and discovering my notable sunburn, I stopped by a place in midtown for some Summercon afterdrinking with my hacker boys, and to pick up the convention badge I never ended up using. I had supposed to attend con and meet up the night before but I simply didn’t feel well enough yet.

I did, however, show up eventually. In turn I got to visit with a few of my favorite people in the world, many of which I hadn’t expected to see, and got a little bit of my drink on.

I was met almost immediately with a pretty awesome exchange with my longtime friend and hobbiest photographer Weld, who happened to notice some time ago that I borrow the SLR camera I often use. He also happens to have a Canon 40D he is not using, and happens to think I need to be taking WAY more pictures. What can I say, the man’s a problem solver – He offered his old camera to me, and I’ll have a 40D of my very own shortly after I settle from my trip. I live a charmed existence indeed.

I invited my distant ex to join us as part of our shenanigans and we ended up having an awesomely entertaining and rather public series of heart to hearts, in which we aired out a lot of the crazy shit we’d pulled on one another, sometimes for the first time since it had happened, and recounted some pretty awesome memories in there as well.

There was a lot of laughing, from both us as well as the people around us who were listening to these tragically hilarious recountings, and a lot of recognition between us. Much Good Stuff was had from our interactions, especially for him, as he’d been slower to process and grow out of the place we were back then and had apparently been holding on to a lot of stuff I’d put down some time ago.

It felt really good, and I was aglow with the familiar feeling of having contributed profoundly to another persons inner world by being generous with mine, though I never stop being surprised when that happens. Nothing we talked about triggered me and I felt a lot of gratitude and connection about it all. It’s sort of amazing how healing admitting to your ex you were kinda happy when you saw he got fat can be.

I ended up spending a night in Manhattan which consisted of very little sleep, not enough dancing, and long awaited connections of multiple types. It was a welcome contrast to the work emails, event coordination mode, recovering from infection, actual work, etc. I got to just be myself for a while, say what came to my mind and be with people who’ve seen it all and stuck around anyway. It really felt great.

Sunday

Spent some time at MOMA in NYC yesterday, mostly mouth agape at the ridiculous piles of shit that the elite seem to think constitutes as artwork. A few things stood out for me, including an antique slideshowing depicting horrific facial deformities, many appearing to be the result of bombings and shootings to the face in the world wars. Some of them were so brutalized it was difficult to imagine how they continued to exist, missing large portions of their bone structure. Something about it captured me but I couldn’t put my finger on it; I realized this morning that the exhibit spoke to my experiences regarding the uncertainty of the results of healing. I expect a scarless, flawless result from mine, particularly when addressing emotional and spiritual injuries. But sometimes, no matter how much more you fiddle with and stretch your skin over the giant hole collapsing your face in, there comes a time to accept that it’s just always going to be tender and unsightly. Disturbing.

I have decided that most Modern art is a bunch of fucking bullshit, and the Museum of Modern Art kinda sicked me out. It’s almost impossible not to compare my work to the work that’s displayed, and so much of it is SO BAD it’s just unbelievable.

Indecipherable pencil scribbles on torn pages of newsprint? Horrifying greenscreened clunky dancers in garish bedazzled zentai suits on video, chunks of which are invisible because the colors of the costumes matched the screen too closely? Chunky paper with strands of human hair swirled sloppily on its surface and put in a frame? Duct tape squares on fucking cardboard?

It seems that any old piece of trash is modern art as long as you make it a series. Who the fuck decides to put this shit in a museum, anyway – cause I’ve got a pile of my crap smeared to a 2×4 to fucking sell the pretentious fucker.

The one thing we were actually there for, the Rain Room, was an hour and a half wait when the exhibit closed in an hour and 15 minutes. No pictures in the Rain Room for Will and I on Sunday. We decided to try later in the week. BLECH.

A Case of the Mondays

Low energy and fairly uncomfortable, strumming the uke without much direction. I’m traveling, taking antibiotics and have pooped twice all week. Help a sista out and suggest some songs you’d like to hear me cover. If any of them work out well I’ll post the progress to soundcloud.

Once that eventful and potentially life altering weekend was over, New York City spent another solid day raining. The last time I was around these parts for this kind of weather, I spectacularly wrecked on the NJ turnpike with my ex after hydroplaning over a temporary lake I couldn’t see.

That was about 16 years ago now and the sound still shoots me up with adrenaline, but that’s about the only thing that remains in me from our ridiculously abusive (both self, drugs and one another) history, for both of us now, I think, and I found the weather to be almost communicative, like a final nod goodbye to all that fucked up victim bullshit. I found myself wondering if I would still periodically panic when I heard hydroplaning anymore.

Monday also happened to be the day that I traveled farther east in Brooklyn to meet with Dese’Rae Stage of the Live Through This Project (for those who know NYC, I was staying on Atlantic Ave near the Nostrand stop on the A, and went to Saraghina off the Utica stop for my meeting) to talk about life after an adolescence wrought to the core with suicide attempts.

When I had originally contacted Dese’Rae after discovering her project, I was in a pretty solid mindstate. I offered to talk about my experiences because I felt I had a lot of encouraging words and insights that could help people who weren’t feeling that life was very worth living, or were questioning if it was all worth it. I’d been there and done that and was proof that it got better.

Of course, when it came time to actually talk to Dese’Rae, I felt like total fucking shit. I was worn down again, tired, sad, alien, weird, alone. My trip wasn’t freeing and energizing like I was expecting, the time off felt like an emotional prison plagued by sickness and conflict, all these fucked up emotions kept surfacing and for much of the weeks leading up to this commitment I’d been stifling tears and avoiding feeling what was calling them out.

As I sat at the table with her chatting and occasionally advising about the administrative challenges of her project, what felt most real to me as my time to speak and be recorded loomed in the distance was how hard it still is. How hard it is at least a portion of almost every single day of my life. How hope for living is a constant battle, a constant struggle to remember that year that gets farther and farther in the past where I didn’t see suicide as an option, or a concept that was just at my fingertips, at the ready, waiting for me to slide down far enough to have nothing but it to cling to. How hard it is to remember the tiny strands of that reality, to remember when I feel bad that it is possible for me to feel better, for what felt like a long time, and maybe some day if I work hard enough I might feel that way again.

So, that, and ideas and insights surrounding that, was what I talked about, once I got through the basics of my history, which took a while in and of itself. I’ll be interested in seeing what she chooses to include in my story on the projects website, which as far as I can figure is about 6 months off from being published. I’m glad I did it, and I know I will be touched by what comes out of it. For now, though, I am comforted by the fact that I’m likely to forget about it entirely in the meantime.

The Final Act

This vacation, thus far, has turned into a lot of work, very little movement/exploration, and laptop forearms. Considering unplugging entirely while in Sweden.

The last few days in NYC were pretty typical. I slept a bit, scheduled a shoot in Sweden for the 17th, checked a lot of email and took Donia for Indian food as a thank you for letting me crash at her place.

Will and I did get some good pictures in the Rain Room exhibit first thing in the morning the day I left, and I was reintroduced to SnapSeed, which I had tried but didn’t really get into before, for post processing arty images.

Up at 7am preparing for a second crack at getting into the MOMA rain room exhibit to have some pictures taken of me. After that, a final couple of hours in NYC which are likely to include central park and stopping by the piano stores I noticed in the neighborhood last time. Then back to Brooklyn to pack up, and the long flight to Sweden.

I had the opportunity to play a Yamaha C7 grand piano at the recommendation of my friend and musical collaborator Aaron Marshall, who suggested I try a Yamaha after reading about my experience with Steinways. We hit up Central Park for a walk and some ice cream and had a ridiculous lunch at a place called the Jekyll and Hyde club in Times Square. It was good to see Will again, it had been since 2005 that I had, and he is what one might call Good People.

The plan is to return to New York for FIGMENT next year. We shall see. I have a lot of travel, still, this year, and next year might need to be a year that I stay home and tend to my various businesses. Especially considering a majority of my commitments in the near future include SEAF and FIGMENT which are volunteer. I really need to figure out how to get paid for this shit.

Packing up and soon to be out of communication until July. If you’re planning on having any big news or have something to say to me before then now’s the time to speak up. Otherwise, see you on the flip side.

Given my penchant for spiraling into the social networking abyss, I will be offline apart from updating my blog until I return from my trip.

Stampede

Monday, February 18th, 2013

I’ve been thinking lately about my decision to, though currently saving for a house, and recently leaving one of my part time jobs, simultaneously agree to increase my office rent by about 75% for the next year in order to add a second room for an art studio.

In some ways, and surely on the paper itself, the decision seems ludicrous. It’ll take all the money I make from my various forms of work to pay my rents and provide basic things for myself, like food and bus fare – and it’s not even for the huge gorgeous mountain view office I REALLY wanted (which was $1410 a month – over twice what my new office is). Still, it’s entirely possible and I am preparing for the reality that I will be eating ramen for months in order to make this change in my life.

And yet, the move seems completely worth it. I have some concerns but they are being overridden by my connection with myself and what I want in my life. This is the right step for me right now – and that dream office I can’t afford seems like a good goal for my future.

In the past when I have had a space to make art, it’s been inconvenient somehow – like a shared space I couldn’t leave my work in, or a cold dirty partially finished basement that made me sneeze. I made the most of these solutions and they were great stepping stones while I learned about myself.

But more of that at this point in my life won’t fuel me and propel me through forward motion like I want. It won’t address the challenges I now face as opposed to the challenges I faced years ago.

To the degree I am currently capable, I have accepted and embodied the reality of my being fundamentally artistic human being. My deepest wish for myself, and my adult-life struggle, has centered around how to truly create an abundant life in which my artistic pursuits are the focus. I need my own space for that.

In the time since I came to this awareness I have yet to meet an artist I consider successful who does not have a dedicated physical space to work. Whether it’s aerial, or visual art, or massage, or writing, a true artist to me is someone who values their work enough to create a space in physical time to pursue it – and made that space their own, as well.

Over the years I’ve nagged at myself that I need a studio and yet have not made one happen. I’ve been waiting to succeed before rewarding myself with the freedom to express and create and experiment. I’ve been waiting to prove to myself that I am worth the same efforts that the successful people around me have seen themselves as being worth. I’ve been waiting for someone else to see the value in me and make it happen. I’ve been waiting to give up, sign my soul and energy away to a social machine that doesn’t speak to my life values in order to afford an art space I wouldn’t have the time or substance left in me to use.

No matter what the story or visual, the constant in my view of my life is that I’ve seen through a perpetual state of deficiency, trying to make space for myself when I felt I didn’t have the resources to take ownership of any. I’ve been doing this (to lesser and lesser degrees) for years and it hasn’t been working. It’s time to set another big suitcase full of baggage down.

With this new office, I will have a place to create, that is not attached to my living space or who I am as a person. This dovetails very well with an emerging perspective of artwork as being something I make, something I produce under the guidance of my Self, which is sometimes an intense and extremely vulnerable expression of that self (I.E., my aerial act), but doesn’t have to ONLY be that kind of art for that purpose.

I want to make art because I saw a cool tutorial on youtube and I want to try a new painting style. I want to make art because it’s cute, or funny, or because I feel like experiencing blue on canvas, or because I want to cover my fists in paint and throw myself against something. I want to make crap. Lots and lots of crap. I want to let myself practice things.

I also want to make art because I have to, because it’s the only way I can create glimpse of what I am experiencing as a human being in this world. I want to make art because I have a new dress that I feel sexy wearing, I want to make art because I discovered a new way to pose my body. I just want to MAKE. ART.

Having this new space supports that vision of myself, and I believe that vision of myself will support me in paying for this new space. Now that I have a second room in which to otherwise be productive, I have the opportunity to be more disciplined in my work, which is an aspect of the success of my mentors I have had a lot of difficulty mimicking in the past.

I can now hold business hours in which I am present, working on art, in addition to offering massages. I can now separate my work from my home life and self care, rather than having half of it jumbled into one big gob of a thing. Now, I can accept walk-in’s and last minute bookings, whereas before I could not manage time effectively enough to offer that to my clients.

Additionally, having this space allows me to expand and collaborate with more people who are doing things in this world that I want to support and be a part of.

Yes, it’s a risk. It’s all a risk, no matter what I choose to do, or if I choose to change nothing. But with this decision, even if I utterly fail, default on my lease, and completely knob the whole thing up – even if the voice in my head that suggests I’m too crappy an artist to have a studio, that even if I have time set aside and a space to create that I won’t ever get any better, that I’m too enslaved by my moods and inspirations to be consistent enough to make this decision work, that the furniture isn’t all going to fit, that I just can’t do it, is right – I will emerge from this choice changed for the better by the experience and I will learn from trusting in myself to handle this challenge of taking more responsibility for my life.

So fuck that tiny little voice. Fuck that I don’t have myself entirely positioned over a safety net. Fuck that I have questions, that I don’t know all the answers, that I’m not certain how this will all pan out. I’m doing it anyway. It’s a no brainer, and whatever happens, I can handle it.

Even if what happens, is wild stampeding success.

Modeling the Arts

Tuesday, January 8th, 2013

Later this month, I will be art modeling for Beverly Naidus at the UW in Tacoma.

Through reading, a variety of studio art practices and an analysis of contemporary media and art, we will examine notions of body image and why so many people in modern mainstream society are obsessed with their appearances. We will study the body through drawing, photography, photo-collage and site-specific installation to develop perceptual and conceptual skills. We will expand our ideas about what is a healthy relationship to our own bodies and to those of others and view of the work of artists working on this theme.

From my brief conversations with her about this project, my sense is that Beverly teaches art much in the way I have found is the best way to learn it – by introducing content, such as art history, in conjunction with skill development, packaged in a way that makes the material relatable to the lives of her students.

For my part in this, I responded to a call for an art model who would be willing to talk about body image issues while posing nude for a class. It was, again, a very synchronous and organic opportunity that materialized as I have been observing the subtle changes in my own image of my body.

I have begin resisting more formally the constant onslaught of shame and guilt in not only having what many people are brainwashed into thinking they want by the mainstream photoshopped anorexic media, but also suffering from the same sense of hopelessness in being incapable of maintaining a warped and unrealistic measure of beauty.

In feeling so I’ve been creating art and conversations that are meant to share my journey and inspire/make a difference for others who are also touched by the realities of this society-wide sickness. So, this was perfect for me, and I am looking forward to the experience.

This is the second juicy, soul serving opportunity/possibility that has emerged from Tacoma in the last month, and a few other not as juicy things have come up as well – not to mention a much more organized, welcoming art community. In contrast to the pretentious scarcity I find leaking from the pores of Seattle, which I am utterly, entirely fucking sick of, I continue wondering if I may find myself living in Tacoma at some point in my near future.

David Lydon: I’ve seen. I’ve had. I am.

Friday, December 21st, 2012

Model/Concept/MUA/Post: Courtnee Papastathis
Photography: David Lydon
Production Assistent: Omri Alon

Chris Clark: All by Myself

Monday, December 3rd, 2012

MUA/Styling/Model: Courtnee Papastathis
Sky Photograph/Post Processing: Courtnee Papastathis
Photography: Chris Clark

Monday, December 3rd, 2012

“Ice Queen”
Self Photograph

Chris Clark: Headshot

Saturday, December 1st, 2012

Model/MUA/Styling/Post: Courtnee Papastathis
Photographer: Chris Clark

Tainted Images shoot preview

Saturday, November 10th, 2012

Photography: Tainted Images
Styling: Courtnee Papastathis and Tainted Images
MUA/Model: Courtnee Papastathis

http://www.modelmayhem.com/1875822

Prepping for a shoot with Tainted Images today

Saturday, November 10th, 2012

http://www.modelmayhem.com/1875822

Chris Clark: Plastic Fantastic Acceptance

Friday, May 11th, 2012

Chris just emailed me to let me know that our picture was accepted into the Plastic Fantastic Show. They accepted an alternative crop of this image. The shoot was entirely Chris’ concept, I just got up at 7:30am and let him take pictures of me in the cold. Congrats!

See the amazing pictures from a previous show here: http://lightbox-photographic.com/exhibitions/PF2FP/

Spontaneous Chris Clark

Tuesday, May 1st, 2012

Washing the Duwamish shore off my feet after a spontaneous early-morning shoot with Chris Clark, for the purpose of submitting work to a plastic camera only photography show. We shot with a Holga!

Porcelain Poet: Drawl

Saturday, March 10th, 2012

Modeling/Post: Courtnee Papastathis
MUA/Styling: Courtnee Papastathis and Porcelain Poet
Photography: Porcelain Poet

It had been way too long since I’d collaborated like this, for sure.

Jim Duvall: Hung

Friday, March 9th, 2012

Model/MUA: Courtnee Papastathis
Photography/Rope: Jim Duvall
Production Assistent: Sophia Sky

John Cornicello: My Sweet Prince

Tuesday, November 15th, 2011

Taken as I sang my cover of “My Sweet Prince”, by Placebo, during my November 2011 show “Embodied”.

Nick Demarco: Sleeping with Ghosts

Thursday, September 15th, 2011

… with a knife behind her back.

Photography by Nick Demarco

Chris Clark Underwater: Spined

Tuesday, September 13th, 2011

Modeling/Post: Courtnee Papastathis
Photography/Styling: Chris Clark

Take Me

Monday, September 12th, 2011

Photographed by Chris Clark

John Cornicello: Underwater

Tuesday, September 7th, 2010

Images taken by John Cornicello, post processed by me.

Monday, September 6th, 2010

4 hours sleep, artistic exuberance, chemical burned eyeballs, 17 miles biked, laying a beautiful instrument to rest, a wonderful show, topped with kisses under the sliver of a nearly new moon. Full day. <3

Bird of Paradise

Tuesday, January 19th, 2010

This is what I did this morning.

That hoop is really set on me, and that painting is real. We decided on the pose, which is free standing. Then Dmitry set the hoop, marked me with tape, painted and feathered only those spots on my body that showed inside the circle, then shot the pose complete with the colored areas. The white feathers are actually set in the shot too.

My hands were numb and my shoulder tweaked from holding that pose, which was originally with my legs even more arched down over my hands, on reflective plastic. Sooo worth it though.

This concept of feathers and paint was not my idea, however, perhaps strangely, it fit quite well into the events of my life of late. Photography by Epsilon Images.

White Noise – New self-photographed digital art

Monday, April 20th, 2009

Modeling, styling, photography, post, and photo manip all by me. I pulled these out alone at my house in about 3 hours from start to finish Used vector flower brushes II by yasney chan, and Tree borders III brushes.

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