by Marty Coleman | Jan 16, 2015 | Labels - 2015, W. C. Fields |
Man Labels
A few days ago I drew the first of my labels series. After I posted it on Facebook my sister took me to task for it only being about women, not men. I explained that 75% of my audience is women, that the person depicted was a woman and that 3 out of the 7 words used were gender neutral. I also said it was just a sample of what people might say, not a thorough compendium.
After thinking about what would be next in the label series this morning I started thinking about what a man might be called compared to a woman. I had the words ‘ugly whore’, ‘slut’, ‘goddess’, and ‘pretty’ as the four gender specific words in the first drawing. What might be the equivalent, or would there be an equivalent, for a man? I ended up using 2 of the same words exactly as before; ‘smart’ and ‘stupid’. I used ‘handsome’ instead of ‘pretty’ and I used ‘God’ instead of ‘Goddess’.
Asshole
I then added 3 words I think are directed in a derogatory way towards men most of the time. ‘Asshole’ can of course be used with any gender. I even have a female blogger friend who just this morning posted a photo of her foray to the fancy pizza restaurant with her young kids last night. She said the kids didn’t like the pizza because it had basil on it, thus she was an ‘asshole’. But that sort of proves the rule to me. It’s a greater rarity to call a woman an asshole than it is a man. It’s changing though, I admit. Not sure that is a good thing or not.
Faggot
The words ‘Womanizer’ and ‘faggot’ are safe bets to be used primarily towards men. I’ve been called both in my life. Being called ‘faggot’ as a teen really had no meaning for me and didn’t really affect me one way or the other. Primarily this was because I didn’t really know what it meant beyond someone being effeminate. I never worried about me being effeminate and I wasn’t really thinking about the sexual acts that would lead one to be called that when I was growing up. It wasn’t some sort of ‘oh, they know my secret’ type worry. It was just something guys said in putting each other down.
I feel for those among my friends who suffered through being called that and actually were questioning their sexuality and attraction, or who did know they were gay from an early age but weren’t at all sure it was right or ok. I know now, when gay rights and gay relationships are much more out in the open, it still is a hurtful word to have thrown at you. But back then, in the 60s and 70s, I can only imagine that to have that word and accusation thrown at you then had to be very hard to take. I am happy that it’s easier for so many now. I hope it becomes easier for more and more around the globe soon.
Womanizer
‘Womanizer’, on the other hand, I didn’t like being called, probably because it hit too close to home. There were times I did feel like a womanizer and so when I was called that word it hit a nerve.
I’ve had many people over the years ask why I primarily draw, photograph and befriend women more than men. I don’t have a problem being asked that and I am confident in my answer. My answer is: I like women more than men. Yes, because of the physical attraction. But also yes, because of the emotional availability. And yes, because of the communication. And yes, because of the mutual interests. Yes, for a lot of reasons.
But being a ‘womanizer’ is not the same as being a person who likes and loves women. Being a womanizer is being manipulative. It’s being predatory. It’s having an agenda. I have been all those things in the past and it took me way too long to see the damage it did to myself and others. Being called that, and worse, being that, wasn’t a good thing.
Your Nerve Point
What about you. What were you called that you never thought about answering because it wasn’t close to who you were? What were you called that actually did hit close to home and you have had to deal with inside yourself?
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Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote adapted from one by W. C. Fields, American comedian and actor, 1880 – 1946
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by Marty Coleman | Jan 14, 2015 | Labels - 2015, Marty Coleman |
Question
What labels have you been given and how did that affect you?
Self-Esteem
I wrote a short story yesterday about a homeless woman and her daughter. The mother was confronted by a woman who judged her negatively without really knowing her. The daughter was upset about the judgment and her mother used the opportunity to explain that the judgment wasn’t based on the lady knowing them. She explained that she judged because she had some hurt in her that she was trying to get out and judging others was her way of doing that. And the mother was right, the judgment occurred because the woman was raised being judgmental. It was how she tried to be like her own mother. It was a convoluted attempt to get her approval, which she never really had as a child. The child was lucky to have a mother to help explain that their self-esteem came from them, not from some random person who did not know them. The link to that story is below.
Their Story
I am guessing those of you reading this have been called one of the words in the drawing above. Some are negative and some are positive, but all of them are fables, or stories. That doesn’t mean they may not have some truth in them. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. But at the most they are incomplete statements of who you are and at the least they are outright lies. Wherever they are in the arch of truth, the reason they are spoken has more to do with the person speaking than it has to do with you.
In other words, they are making up a story about you that fits their needs. It’s not a story about truth, it’s a story their need. Within that story may be some truths about you that you agree with. Maybe you think you are smart just like they do. Maybe you do think you are a slut just like they do. But that is just two stories having a similar character. It doesn’t make their story your story.
Your Story
When I do a photo shoot with a model for one of my art projects I will often ask the following question: What is your favorite facial feature on yourself? Many will answer in the following way: “Well, most people say it’s my… ‘type in facial feature here’. I, in response, will say, “I am not asking what others think is your best feature, I am asking you what feature is YOUR favorite.” That gets them thinking and they often, but not always, will change their answer. They might say, “I know no one else really pays any attention to it, but I love my forehead best because it reminds me of my dad.” or something like that. That, to me, illustrates the difference between the story you would tell about yourself and the story others may tell about you.
Question
What labels have you been given and how did that affect you?
Story Link:
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Drawing, quote and commentary by Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | Jan 13, 2015 | 'In The Gallery', Marty Coleman |
Prologue
Beatrice was raised by a very judgmental mother who didn’t like her much.
Chapter One
Beatrice saw the mother and daughter on the street outside of gallery as she went up the steps. As she juggled her keys and coffee to unlock the door she hoped they would move along soon.
It wasn’t that cold out but it had been cold overnight and they were both barefoot. Their shoes had been stolen at the homeless shelter the night before. The mother, named Emily, was hoping the shelter would have extra shoes, but they did not. She had come downtown hoping the church caring center would have some and was waiting for it to open. She stopped in front of the gallery because there was a ledge just the right height for her daughter to sit on with her doll. Her daughter, named Cerise, had to go to the bathroom very badly. The mother was hoping she could wait until the caring center was open but it looked like she might not be able to. She finally decided she had to go into the gallery to see if they had a bathroom.
Beatrice heard the door open while she was in the back turning on the computer in the office. When she went out and saw it was the mother and daughter she rolled her eyes, sighed heavily and went up front to confront them. “Yes, may I help you?” She asked.
Emily said, “We are waiting for the church caring center to open down the street but my daughter really has to go to the bathroom. Would you mind if she used yours, please?”
Beatrice said, “Yes, she may, but make it quick.” She walked towards the back, sweeping her arm behind her indicating for them to follow. She pointed to a small door and said, “There, please be quick and clean up after.”
Cerise was quick and did clean up after. Emily thanked Beatrice and started to walk back to the front to go out. Beatrice stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and said, “Hold on a minute. I really have to say I am bothered by you allowing your daughter being barefoot in the city like that, not to mention yourself. It’s dangerous on the sidewalks with trash and glass and all sorts of things. Why are you barefoot?”
Emily explained about the shoes being stolen. Beatrice said, “But why did you allow them to be stolen? Why weren’t they on your feet? Why were you at a homeless shelter in the first place? Your child is very young, you should take better care of her.”
Emily by this time was holding Cerise close. Cerise in turn was holding her doll even closer. Emily said, “Yes, you are right. I wish I had taken better care of her. Thank you for letting us use the bathroom. We won’t bother you again.”
Beatrice said, “I hope you don’t and I hope you get your act together. It’s not good for her.”
Chapter Two
Emily and Cerise went outside and down the street to the Church Caring Center. It had opened and it turned out they did have shoes they could have, along with socks and sweaters for both of them. Cerise had been crying about the lady in the gallery. She asked her mom, “Why was that lady so mean? She really scared me. You should have told her the whole story, then maybe she wouldn’t have been so mean.”
Emily responded, “You know Cerise, sometimes it really doesn’t matter if someone knows the whole story. They need to judge and so they will judge, no matter what. You and I know the story and we both know why we were at the homeless shelter. We know what we are doing and why. That is what matters.”
Beatrice told the story of the homeless mother and daughter to five different friends over the course of the day. Four of the friends agreed that the homeless mother was bad and that the daughter should be taken from her and put in protective custody. The fifth friend, a wealthy gallery patron named Jill, told Beatrice she thought she had treated them badly. She said what they needed was kindness, not judgment.
Beatrice was rather taken aback by this and asked why she was making such a big deal about it. Jill said, “I once was homeless when I was quite young and people treated me the same way. I already knew all the negative things about myself and how I had ended up homeless, I didn’t need other people telling me the same thing. What I needed was help and understanding. Luckily for me I got that help, and ironically it was actually from a gallery dealer in Los Angeles. Without his understanding and help I never would have gotten out of the jam I was in.”
Chapter Three
A few weeks later Emily and Cerise were in the same gallery neighborhood again. This time they had shoes on. Emily had gotten a part-time job at a coffee shop about a block from the gallery. The coffee shop owner had said Cerise could stay there as long as she didn’t bother her mother too much while she was on duty. It would only be for a few more weeks then school would start again for the fall and Cerise wouldn’t have to be there during the day. Cerise sat at a little table near the window and drew in the sketchbook they had given her at the Church Caring Center a few weeks before.
Beatrice usually came to the coffee shop around 9:30 am, right before she went to open the gallery. This day she saw a little girl through the window as she approached. As she walked past she bent down, pointed at the drawing and said, “You are a very good artist. Keep at it and one day you might be famous, who knows!” Cerise looked up and recognized the woman as the mean person from a few weeks prior, but Beatrice did not recognize Cerise. But when she came to the counter she most definitely did recognize Cerise’s mother, Emily. She remembered the green eyes, the strong eyeliner and the red hair up in a bun. Emily recognized Beatrice as well. They stared at each other for a moment. Beatrice could feel her cheeks flushing with blood.
Emily asked, “Hello, what may I get for you today?”
Beatrice answered, “Um…I will have…um….I will have a large Cafe Mocha please.”
Emily said, “Will that be all?”
Beatrice answered, “Yes. Um….you were in my gallery last week, right?”
Emily responded, “Yes. My daughter used the bathroom. Thank you for allowing that.”
Beatrice said, “Um….yes. No problem. Anytime.” She felt particularly stupid after saying that.
Emily said. “Your drink will be ready over to the left. It should be just a minute.”
Beatrice moved over to the counter at the left. She picked up her drink and was on her way out when she returned to Emily. She said, “I am sorry for the attitude I had that day. It was mean and judgmental and I regret it.”
Beatrice looked up from ringing something up in the cash register. “I appreciate that. We are used to that attitude, you aren’t alone. But you are the only person who’s ever apologized to me for it. That means a lot. Thank you.”
Beatrice asked, “Where is your daughter?”
Emily pointed to the front and said, “You already talked to her, she is the little girl at the window over there.”
Beatrice Asked Emily her name and the name of her daughter. She shook Emily’s hand, said her apology again and walked over the Cerise. She kneeled down to Cerise’s level, forgetting that her skirt was short and was probably exposing too much, and said, “Cerise, my name is Beatrice. I own the gallery that you came into last week to go to the bathroom. I remember being mean to your mother and you and I should not have been like that. I wanted to come over and apologize to you. Will you forgive me?”
Cerise said, “Yes, I will. Mom says when someone treats us mean it usually means something is hurting inside them and that we should hope that hurt goes away for them instead of us feeling hurt about what they said.”
Beatrice stared at Cerise. She couldn’t talk for a moment. Finally, as tears started to gather in her eyes, said, “Yes, your mother is a very wise woman. She is right. It is much more about my hurt than anything about you. Once again, I am sorry and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”
Cerise said, “I won’t, I promise. By the way, thank you for saying you liked my drawing when you came in. That made me happy. I am not very good yet but I like drawing so I do it anyway.”
Beatrice said, “You are better than you think you are, I can tell you that much.”
Beatrice left, crying.
Chapter Four
Two days later Beatrice went back in the coffee shop and saw Cerise and Emily again. She asked Emily if it would be ok if some days Cerise spent her time at the gallery instead of the coffee shop. Emily said it was ok with her if it was ok with Cerise. Beatrice went over to Cerise and asked, “Cerise, I had an idea last night. Would you be willing to spend a bit of your time during the day at my gallery instead of here? You can still draw of course. But you can do other things there too, maybe even help me with some stuff. And we do have a cool cat that needs some company.”
Cerise looked over at her mother who nodded her ok. Cerise smiled and said, “Yes, that might be fun.”
Cerise spent an hour or so each day at the gallery for the remainder of the summer. She drew a lot, often drawing the cat sleeping in the sun. She also learned how to hammer a nail, cut a mat, wire a frame and paint pedestals. As the end of summer approached Beatrice’s assistant announced she was pregnant and going to be moving the the suburbs with her husband, who was taking a job in Greenwich.
Beatrice offered the assistant job to Emily, who accepted.
Epilogue
That was five years ago. Beatrice has since opened a second gallery uptown. Emily is in charge of the downtown gallery and is making quite a name for herself as an astute judge of talent and an excellent curator. Cerise is just entering high school and has decided to major in art when she goes to college.
Beatrice keeps in contact with her friend Jill, who is also great friends with Emily and Cerise. Beatrice has no idea what ever happened to her other four friends.
The End
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by Marty Coleman | Jan 9, 2015 | Art Smith, Museum Compositions, Photographic Sunday |
Yesterday I posted a drawing and 2 photos from my foray into the Dallas Museum of Art’s ‘Bouquet’ exhibition over the Thanksgiving weekend, 2014.
There were other temporary exhibitions as well. One was a retrospective of Modernist Jewelry created by Art Smith. I honestly was more interested in the photographs of the models wearing the jewelry, most seeming to be from the 50s and 60s. The photographers were listed as ‘Unknown Photographer’ in all the photos, though one actually did have a last name written on it. It’s a relatively rare occurrence when something on a museum wall from the last 100 years is attributed to ‘Anonymous’ . The names of models in old paintings are often lost in time, but that is usually not the case with more contemporary portrait muses. But these were photos focused on the jewelry, not the photographer or model, and at least the Jewelry designer was known, right? Still, I felt bad for the photographer and models lost in time. I did however like the word play that immediately appeared in my head; I was taking photographs of photographs taken by unknown photographers of anonymous models.
I took a few pics with my regular camera then decided to take one with my cell phone so I could post it if I later wanted to. When I did that I happened to catch a reflected light in the eye of one of the model photos. That led me on a search for more reflected lights in the eyes. I spent minutes at a time trying to get the reflection to be just right. It was a fun and exacting effort. The other people in the gallery definitely were wondering why I was holding up a little old cell phone so long in one position, that was obvious!
Here are a few of my favorites from my effort.
Museum Composition – Anonymous Eyes #1
Museum Composition – Anonymous Eyes #2
Museum Composition – Anonymous Eyes #3
Museum Composition – Anonymous Eyes #4
After I took the pics I wandered around looking at the actual jewelry in the cases and, as you can see from the photos, they were incredible.
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Here are more ‘Museum Compositions’ posts
Museum Compositions – June 2013
Museum as Muse – Dallas Museum of Art – July 2013
Bouquets in Dallas – Dallas Museum of Art – November 2014
Anonymous Eyes – Dallas Museum of Art – November 2014
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Photographs and writing by Marty Coleman © 2015
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by Marty Coleman | Jan 8, 2015 | Dallas, Museum Compositions, Photographic Sunday |
Dallas Museum of Art
Over the Thanksgiving weekend we were down in Dallas visiting our daughter, Caitlin. We went to see the Dallas Cowboys play on Thursday, had Thanksgiving dinner after that and then spent the rest of the weekend just enjoying ourselves. On Friday Linda and Caitlin went shopping and I went to one of my favorite museums, the Dallas Museum of Art. I’ve been there 3 times now I think. It’s a large museum with an extensive permanent collection in all the major areas of art. It also has rotating exhibitions, usually at least 3-4 at a time. This time the major show was ‘Bouquets’. That means it was paintings of flowers. Not my favorite genre. It could even be my least favorite genre actually.
I knew this in advance and was thinking of going to the outdoor Sculpture Museum across the street instead but for some reason I forget now, maybe it was cold or rainy, I opted to go to the Museum anyway. I had my camera with me and figured at least I would be able to work on my ongoing ‘Museum Compositions’ series. I also knew that the exhibition had at least one Matisse painting in it so it couldn’t be all bad.
One of the good things about the DMA is they allow photography (without flash) everywhere, even special exhibitions. Most museums allow photography but not in the temporary exhibitions. Some, like the Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa, don’t allow any photography at all. So, I went traipsing around the museum and took some photos.
Drawing
I also did a drawing while I was there. It wasn’t in my sketchbook but rather in a gallery in the Bouquet’ exhibition where they had an actual bouquet of flowers for people to draw. They had paper and pencils and places to sit. I had a pen with me, the type I use in my sketchbook, so I used that on one of their pieces of paper to capture the scene. There was a place to put up your art work once you were finished but I didn’t want to let go of mine. I rolled it up and brought it home thinking I might color it later on. It got hidden in a bag I brought home and I didn’t find it again until last week right before my road trip to Virginia.
One of my goals for 2015 is to follow through on more of my artwork so I figured I needed to scan the drawing and put it out there before it got forgotten.
A drawing of someone drawing flowers in an exhibition of paintings of flowers at the Dallas Museum of Art.
Photographs
I didn’t capture many shots I liked but here are two I think stood out.
Museum Composition – Bouquet #1
This is one of the favorite ‘Museum Compositions’ images I’ve taken. The pose this woman unconsciously struck as she looked at the painting was exquisite and I quickly got off 3-4 photos of her standing there. I later went up to her and asked her if she was a dancer since the pose looks so much like one a dancer would strike. She said she wasn’t and I told her she sure had the posture of one. She took it as a very nice compliment and I was happy about that.
Museum Composition – Bouquet #2
I like the color combinations in this one and I especially like the interaction between the two people.
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Here are more ‘Museum Compositions’ posts
Museum Compositions – June 2013
Museum as Muse – Dallas Museum of Art – July 2013
Bouquets in Dallas – Dallas Museum of Art – November 2014
Anonymous Eyes – Dallas Museum of Art – November 2014
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Photographs and drawings © 2017 Marty Coleman | napkindad.com
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