Memories

Forgive me, for I am not a good story teller...

Every year in Tallahassee, Florida the Red Hills Horse Trials is held the first weekend in March. Having ridden horses all my life, and being a native of Tallahassee, my goal was to compete in this event. I got my chance in March of 2008.

My memory of this event is not as vivid as I would have hoped, for this was such an exciting time in my career as a Three-day Eventer. Three-day Eventing is a sport that tests the limits of horse and rider, physically and mentally. The three days consist of three different "tests." The first, Dressage, looks more or less like horse ballet (can't think of any other way to describe it). The rider is given a series of movements that he/she must have the horse do by using subtle signals. This tests athleticism and obedience. The second day is cross-country. This day is my favorite, for it is a thrilling experience in every sense of the word. Horse and rider must navigate through a course set in the woods, jump solid obstacles, all within a specified amount of time. This tests agility and speed. This can be dangerous and the reason why recently the sport has become a bit controversial. The third day is Stadium Jumping in which you and your horse must jump, in an arena, very vertical pole jumps arranged in a twisting pattern in a specified amount of time, usually just over a minute. The object is to not knock down any poles and to be done with the course under the allotted time.

(Sorry for the long description, but I felt that to better envision my memory you must first have an understanding of my sport.)

I remember being so excited when that weekend arrived. It was just another competition like so many before, but this was my hometown and I wanted to do really well. Not to mention, this particular cross-country course was known for its difficulty. Needless to say, my excitement was combined with nerves; but the monotonous routine of unloading the horses (mine and my trainer's horse) and setting up our stalls with all our equipment helped to temporarily calm those nerves.

I saw many familiar faces as I made my way throughout the show grounds. The atmosphere at these events, in my opinion, is unlike any other sporting event. We spend long amounts of time with our fellow competitors and in turn create lasting friendships. I would look forward to seeing everyone each weekend (we would go to 2-3 events per month). The grounds could almost make you think of a circus. There are brightly colored tents housing these big, beautiful performing animals, concessions of all kinds (food, souvenir), dogs running around everywhere, and people walking around dressed like ringmasters. Even the smell might be compared to that of a circus. I promise it doesn't smell as bad as you might think. It smells more like a combination of leather, hay and wood chips (we use them as bedding for the horses.) I admit, I wouldn't bottle it and sell it, but I am partial to the smell. I remember praying that it wouldn't rain. In years past it seemed to always rain this particular weekend, and it hinted at rain with the sky full of grey clouds.

My horse at the time was Opie, an English Thoroughbred (they are much taller and thicker than their American counterparts). He is dark bay, which simply means dark brown, and he has no white on him at all. He is a handsome horse, and is quite large. I couldn't see over his shoulders and I am 5' 6". "Opie" was his "barn" name and "Matter of Opinion" was his "show name, which is the name called over the intercom when we are out on course.

Thursday, the day before the competition started, Opie and I prepared for Dressage. Little did we know, no amount of preparation would have helped us that next day. When it came time for us to enter the ring I knew that we were going to do horribly, and we did. I do not like Dressage, nor does my horse, so I knew we wouldn't do that well, however we did much worse than I could have anticipated. I didn't care much, though, because the next phase, Cross-Country, was our forte. Opie was like a machine when it came to Cross-Country.

The morning of Cross-Country, Saturday, was overcast. But rain was not in the forecast. I was scheduled to be one of the first to go on course that day, so rain was the least of my worries. As I was getting tacked up (putting all the gear on my horse) my trainer tells me there is a delay on the course. That usually meant a rider had fallen. The delay wouldn't take long if the horse and rider were okay, but the delay went on for about an hour. This lapse in time gave my nerves time to settle in, and now the thought of someone injured really got my heart pounding. We finally got word that Darren Chiacchia was the rider who had fallen, and he had to be airlifted to the hospital. His horse was fine. Darren Chiacchia is one of the best Event riders in the world. He has represented the United States in numerous international events, including the Olympics. Hearing he was injured, no less on the course I must do, turned my stomach. But he was on a much less experienced horse than my own. I never thought about withdrawing from the competition, although several others did. Still, it helped that my trainer assured me I could handle it. Soon the course opened back up with one minor adjustment; the course designer decided to remove the jump where Darren had fallen. It was determined to be too dangerous (if only they had realized that sooner).

Opie and I went to the warm up arena where the feeling was somber. The recent news of Darren's injury and the ensuing nerves kept everyone quiet. When it was my turn to go out on course I felt good. I knew I could handle it. I trusted my horse and he trusted me. So off we went. I was the longest five minutes of my life, and at the same time it was the shortest. I don't know if that makes any sense, but every time we would go over a jump time seemed to slow down, and then when we landed time would race forward with us. My memory of being on the course is cloudy. I wish I could remember each turn, each obstacle, and each jump with such vividness that my words would be like watching a DVD of the actual event. I do recall, though, when I went through the finish line I jumped off my horse, and my trainer ran up to me and gave me the biggest hug! She was so proud of me, and I was proud of myself and Opie too. We ended up having one of the fastest times in the entire competition!

That is where I will end this recount. The rest of the weekend was awesome, but Cross-Country day was the biggest accomplishment for me. It was a longtime goal achieved. We ended up in 8th place out of 30-ish competitors. And Darren Chiacchia made a full recovery and is still competing today.

When trying to think of a memory to retell I realized that I am not a very good memory keeper. This memory, as well as many others, was just sort of blurred together as one big blob of memory floating around in my brain. When I try to separate it, it becomes diluted. In regards to this particular memory it may be the fact that I have done so many competitions so similar (in content, but differing in level of importance) to this one that makes them all meld together. This competition clearly stands out the most in my mind because of its significance. But why can't I remember all the others? And it's not just memories with horses, but those of family and friends are also becoming blobs that don't make much sense until I force myself to dig through the mess. Even then the memory has lost some of its color, smell, and feeling.

Contemporary Art

When I starting thinking about this assignment I realized that I didn't really know what Contemporary Art was, or rather what time frame it encompassed. I had always kinda lumped it together with Modern Art, I guess. So, to be honest, I Googled it. Yes, I admit, I am studying art, but I don't know everything about it. It is mainly art made after 1960, but some say that 1970 seems to be the most accurate starting place because it marked the end of easily classified movements. Which does seem to make sense. A "movement" in art would last decades in earlier centuries. Whereas now there may be a lot of movements but they may only involve a small number of artists and only last a short period of time. Or artists are working in movements that cannot be classified. "Movements" are not so much centered around style but are connected to cultural and social issues.

To further help in defining art today the article we read in class states, "Art is such an unregulated field of endeavor that any disposition within the catalogue of human conceptual and emotional responses can be released into art. The gates are flung wide open. No theme is disallowed because it is too sentimental, too vulgar, or too sacred." Based on this statement, the last sentence in particular, I chose these three contemporary works.

Photographer Nan Goldin, "documents her life among friends, loves, and acquaintances who make up what she had called her recreated family." This "family" was made up of the "gender-bending, substance abusing, club-going culture of New York's downtown scene." Her photos remind me of Renaissance paintings, minus the cigarettes and beer cans. The compositions are classic and the beautiful, lush colors bring to mind rich oil paints used by the masters. Each photo invites the viewer inside "the private dramas of people and situations normally considered to be on the outer reaches of social acceptability."

This photograph in particular, Greer and Robert on the Bed, portrays an intimate moment in an intimate setting. This "sentimental" snapshot may not be something the two in the picture want to remember, as their insecurity is oozing out, but it was important to Goldin. Her intention, I believe, wasn't to create memories of good times or fun adventures, neither was it to create artfully rendered photographs; but it is almost a photo diary of her and her friends' emotional journeys that so many of us can relate to, albeit in different ways.

Quotes and picture from www.guggenheimcollection.org

This next artist is provocative and controversial, and he strives to be so. Italian artist, Maurizio Cattelan isn't playing it safe. He his making his art purely for the reactions that they will entice from the viewer. He has been described "as one of the great post-Duchampian artists, and a smart ass too." While his talent as an artist cannot be argued (his realistic wax figures are almost too lifelike!) it is the "vulgar" context in which they were created that receives all the attention.

"The Ninth Hour" is a sculpture depicting Pope John Paul II being struck down by a meteorite. "The work which takes its title from the hour of Jesus Christ's death, was featured in the Royal Academy in London's Apocalypse: Beauty and Horror in Contemporary Art." When displayed in Poland members of the parliament tried to remove the meteorite and stand the figure up. As crude as this work is it sold at Christie's for 3 million dollars, proving that nothing is off limits as a subject. There will be an audience for it somewhere, and it often seems like it is these kinds of works that garner the largest audiences. Again, Cattelan knew what he was doing.

Quotes and pictures from www.orbit.zkm.de

Howard Hodgkins defines himself as a "representational painter, but not a painter of appearances. I paint representational pictures of emotional situations." His paintings seek to display the "sacred" "memories of encounters with friends" and places. While he usually paints on a smaller scale, his paintings can take years to finish alluding to the fact that these works are indeed sacred to him.

It is written that "his work comes directly out of the French tradition known as Intimism. It assumes that the ordinary, day to day relationships of an artist's domestic life is deeply interesting as a subject for painting...because it shows that life obliquely, in its ordinary quality, just like yours and mine, and then slightly transcends its commonplaceness, thus giving up hope of meaning by analogy, in our own lives." This painting, Tears, Idle Tears, is allowing the viewer into something very intimate to the painter, for as the brushwork reveals this was done with emotion, but it may also remind the viewer of the idle tears they themselves have cried making the emotion a sacred one.

Quotes from www.artchive.com. Picture from www.artknowledgenews.com