The Carnegie Museum of Art: Photography edition: Teenie Harris, and Other Art like Duane Michals

Yo, Teenie Harris, what's up?

Why is he called Teenie? I don't know. He was nicknamed that.

Here's a link of a timeline highlighting important events in his life: http://teenie.cmoa.org/About.aspx

For those who don't know about him, he was a famous photographer for the civil rights era. You know what I learned? You actually had to develop photos back then!!! That's crazy. For instance, he took pictures of people at a bar, ran back home to develop his photos, and ran back and hoped they were there so they can buy his pictures that he took.

Today, people take "selfies" all the times and post them on the internet without a hesitant thought. It takes just a few seconds. Wild.

The injustice back then was crazy, too.

I also learned how to take photos better after this trip, by understanding that I need to keep my camera still UNTIL it is finished taking the photo. I press a button and pull my phone away, but it's not finished taking the picture yet. I also have to keep it still. So, I learned basic photography from this trip from two great photographers, the second of which I'll talk about later on in this post.

There was a hallway with Teen Harris's blown up photos on the walls. I made a left, sat down at a leather couch and inspected the cards and other things on the table.



I would come to find that what I thought I knew of Dr. King, and what I had been taught in school, only scratched the surface."

Under the "How does Teenie Harris's story compare with your experience?" I wrote something like, "Lions, the winners, write history, not the sheep. Of course schools' history books were biased and by a certain perspective." And I wrote my name down there, and placed it in the binder on the table.



Harris took pictures of Dr. King, who had visited The University of Pittsburgh, the college I go too (albeit I go to a branch campus)! Pretty cool.



Dr. King!

Here is one of Teenie's photos on a protest:



A lot of people! I try to imagine what's actually happening in the photo, instead of just looking at the still-frame, all the people shouting and marching down the street (in a cold or warm day/night?).

I discovered advertisements for jobs in a newspaper ad in one of the pictures. Take a look:



Advertising Engineering jobs:  "The largest profession for men." No duh. 


Advertising new Medical Technologist jobs, targeting women: "Medical technology is a challenging new profession..."




Thought it was pretty cool to see those advertisements from so long ago.

I'm sure you can find more of Teenie Harris's photos online if you searched around. I definitely recommend checking them out!

Now, on to the art!

I call this, "Kevin Scrima's Reflection in a Long, Blue Rectangular Thingy."




Brilliant art work, eh?

I don't know what this is, but it's beautiful. Shapes and colors and figures and all:




I don't even wanna think how long it took to make that beautiful piece of art.

Here's a patriotic red, white, and blue painting:



More patriotism! This time, with Abe Lincoln, and his Gettysburg Address:




And here's a Russian medallion, made of ivory, from the 17th Century. It's crazy how they were able to make these small things with such intricate detail.



Here's a French ivory piece from the 14th Century. Let me repeat that. From the FOURTEENTH CENTURY!



And look how intricate that tiny thing is. Remember, hands made this, not machines, like they would in today's age.

Oh, and I found this broken statue. His penis was broke:



Or maybe he was born that way, with no arms,  one leg, and no penis. Or, those just happened to break off the statue over time.

Poor penis.


Here's some amazing, gigantic dresser with a mirror attached to it:



I took a picture of my reflection in it :)



Just think, my reflection is in the same mirror that was made for some famous person who's reflection has been cast there countless times. Making history!

I also managed to squeeze myself next to the tiny thinker in this tiny white and black television:



This piece, made purposely disgusting, to point out the fallacies of social classes, greed, poverty, things like that:



Okay, nude woman and boobies alert!



Boobs.

Anyway, this piece was made to show off her nude on purpose, and covering her face ( deemed unimportant I guess compared to her nude body). Gum shaped in the representation of the vagina and the clitoris were placed all over her body to look like scabs and disgusting things, to make her body look yucky, perhaps to make her look disgusting if she doesn't look perfectly beautiful. The artist used gum as a metaphor for how men used women, saying that they take a piece, chew her up for a bit, spit her out and throw her away, and move on to a new piece of gum.

I understand men have used women like that, but women can also use men like that. And both sides shame each other for many things. In my eyes, no one wins. It's a constant battle over each other.

All kinds of chewed gum all over the sidewalk everywhere.

Now, I planned on being a lazy bum and stopping at this exhibit, but I happened to walk into another room full of photographs by this guy named Duane Michals. And let me tell you, he inspired me on how he used photography.



Instead of taking one picture of something, like most people would, he took a bunch of photos to tell a story. It was amazing. He felt that one photo didn't tell enough of the story, so he took more photos to connect the story. And I feel the same exact way he felt about photography, and I think that's why I connected with him.He also added handwritten messages, poems, painted art on his photos, and much more. Amazing, breaking away from tradition.



He knew nothing about photography. He didn't go to school for it, which means he didn't have to unlearn what they taught him. I also thought that was amazing. He's a famous photographer, but didn't go to school for it.

I have my own mixed feelings about school. It's useful sometimes; other times, it's not. You're forced to learn things and take classes that may be irrelevant or time-wasting to your life purpose. I appreciate all knowledge, but schools can really backfire and actually harm people, do damage instead of creating. That's one of the many reasons I no longer wanted to be a teacher. I didn't want to be part of all the bullshit.

I've given up on a lot of it since this year. At least I got to take three writing classes that I enjoyed. Not sure how involved I would have been with school otherwise; probably not. Maybe I would've fallen off the bandwagon too. I really didn't attend my philosophy class--i did fine on the tests and essays without, so there really wasn't a point. Stopped attending my Digital Humanities class because it was insanely difficult, wasn't learning anything, too much work and going too fast. Hopefully that'll be dropped. Had a Java class at the beginning, but it was too much for my schedule, so I dropped that.

So, my writing classes were nice. Even though I was late sometimes, at least I attended. There's that.



True that, Michals. Schools can brainwash you a little bit. People think they need MA's and PhD's to find themselves and get an awesome job. Not necessarily. Think for yourselves, people, don't let all the schools do the thinking for you.



I like this photo. It's The Fallen Angel. The other sequences of this photo narrative show the angel bedding the woman, and losing his wings, losing his purity and innocence, and he seems in anguish after he loses his innocence, and the man who was once an angel can never go back after the woman took a part of him away from him using her sexuality. Hence, The Fallen Angel.



Here, he's upset that he can't photograph the real thing, only the reflection, the shadow of what he's taking a picture of instead. It's like how I am with words: I have the perfect thought in my mind, but even with the magical power of words, it's not always the same as I thought of in my head. But, it's the best we've all got. Even if we are writing and photographing reflections, at least we manage that much.



He painted a flower on his photo. Amazing! He was upset that he couldn't paint like many of the famous painters; however, he's able to paint extraordinary objects into his extraordinary photos!

He was given the key to McKeesport:



Big key. Wonder what door this opens up? Ha.




It's awful not to be able to express yourself out loud and say, "This is what I think." Definitely. If people shame you for expressing yourself, all the worse. Being introverted, I can only truly express myself through art forms, like my videography, or writing, or pictures, etc. Rarely can I do it as well in conversation like I do in my art. There's always so much more I have to say in a conversation, but it doesn't come out.




Discovering what you can't see is always fun. I so resonate with this artist.



Find those who free you.

I'd like to think the system, or the critics are those who chew the gum, us, and spit us out, and we are the artists, revealing ourselves nude in all our glory, alluring, vulnerable, and their gum stains on our bodies.

The Mattress Factory (And No, This Post Is Not About Mattresses)

A month or so ago, I visited The Mattress Factory, and no, this would not be a museum of mattresses, like I thought it was. Which could have been really weird.

Yeah, this picture of the orange polka-dotted mannequins, I think, was a lasting image that seemed to represent The Mattress Factory as its face.

I mean, look at them. They are pretty sexy. An orange polka-dotted ass and tits, with old lady hair on her head, her thin body posing for you--how can you pass that up?

When I was there, looking into the windows, it gave me the feeling of eternity, seeing the thousands of orange polka-dotted women that went on for miles in the reflections of these mirrors. It was eerie.



My only question is, why are the polka dots orange? Why not red? Or blue? Or green? Or yellow? I'm sure there's a good reason. Heck, why not even rainbow polka dots? Now THAT would be art. I think?

And if you leave this room, you enter this trippy-looking room here:

.

Another mirrored room, leading to an infinity of fluorescent lights on the ceiling, and orange and green polka-dots on the floor. This was by far my favorite room.

I'd like to imagine these as stars. Activate the warp-drive!

Eh, close enough.























Ah, the light, it's too bright! AND WHERE ARE MY LEGS?!?!



It's dark. Not sure where I photoed this trippy scene:




Cool colors and effects, man.

Now let's get out of these rooms. Onward!

I'd find one of my favorite quotes of mine up ahead soon.



No, this isn't my favorite, although everyone I was with seemed to love this one. I wondered, is this why people talk so much? They're trying to fill some emptiness? Seems like a bad reason to keep on talking. And working yourself to death to try and fill some emptiness seems anti-productive, too. Fill the emptiness by appreciating the little things. And do what you love, and don't worry if you don't get along with people--you're not supposed to get along with everyone. That's how I view it.

Now, this was my favorite:



"Sometimes I just don't know how to be in the world." Can't believe I didn't think of this quote myself. Think about it. A lot of people don't know how to be in the world. They may even resort to doing things, like drugs, to try to fit into the world. And I've never resorted to pretending to be someone else or pretending I'm into a sort of certain activity to make myself feel like I know what I'm doing. No, when you're around people who don't believe in what you believe in, value what you value, think like you think, or are raised around people who you can't connect with, of course you're not going to know how to be in the world.

Many of the schools and workplaces I've been to gave me that feeling, "I just don't know how to be." Everyone wants to create their own world around them where they know how to be in the world. But the problem is, so does everyone else. Which is why it doesn't work often.

Fortunately, I'm striving to get into the places where I know I belong. But my room is the perfect place for peace and serenity--no matter what, at the end of the day, I know I can find enjoyment there. If you "don't know how to be" in your own room, then you're truly lost, and I feel very sorry for anyone out there who doesn't "know how to be" in his or her own room.

Just be, man. Just be. It takes time, though, unfortunately.

Here's some purple photo I found:



"Purple haze, all in my brain.
Lately things they don't seem the same.
Actin' funny, but I don't know why.
Excuse me while I kiss the sky.
Purple haze, all around.
Don't know if I'm comin' up or down.
Am I happy or in misery?" -- Jimi Hendrix "Purple Haze"

That's what it reminded me of.




Doge. I love you, Doge.

There was one where there's a very dark room, where we have to let our eyes adjust to see. We went in there to see this:



A square light in a dark room. This is art, folks. Take notes. And you, too, can become a great light artist someday.



Agreed, Doge. Agreed.

There was a circus room there. It was pretty amazing. There was a tiny bicycle you could try to ride on, a tightrope with a rope above to help you walk across, a ball with a rope above it to help you keep balance on it, and one of those spinny things you keep your body inside.



In another building were these exhibits by an artist who used yarn (I believe) around areas of a room to "capture" or "freeze" memories in place. It was pretty interesting.



All of that black yarn around these piles of books. Never thought of things in a room as memories before until I've seen these. It was quite literally eye-opening.

How many memories could you find in one room? I'd find so many in my room, that I'm not sure I'd be able to catch one.

So, in short, those were the important pictures and thoughts from that trip.

I'll let Doge finish this post. Go for it, Doge.