"Crucifixion of the Feminine" is the title of my exhibit that I have had floating around in my head for several years now and until a year ago I did not realize the magnitude and the ramifications that it will have. I have recently been making certain connections that will help propel it forward and the people I have been talking with seem to have the same bubbling underneath the surface excitement I have. Taking an idea from its infancy to fully know that it will happen brings beautiful tears to my eyes. I feel as if I have had and will continue to have a great deal of support for me and this project and for that I am eternally grateful.
I am proud of myself that I am sticking with my word and following through with the exhibit.
There will be much more on this as the weeks and months go by but for now I will leave the outline for the exhibit here:
Crucifixion of the Feminine
Exhibition Proposal for Kris Haas
Exhibition Summary:
Proposed Exhibition Title: The Crucifixion of the Feminine
Artists:
Kris Haas
Kris Haas@mac.com
503.285.0667
http://www.krishaas.com
Allison Kramer
allison.kramer1@gmail.com
http://www.allisonkramer.com
Exhibition Description:
“Crucifixion of the Feminine” is a mixed-media exhibition concept,
with the majority of the work from Kris Haas, along with photographs
created by Allison Kramer under the direction of Kris Haas. The show
consists of approximately 40 pieces; 2 large collages, 14 photographs, 24
paintings/panels. The exhibition concept also call for an open forum
performance with readings and testimonials from invited guests and
participants inside the exhibit.
In addition to the art exhibit, the concept call fro a web-site
component where it would build awareness, facilitate conversations and
narrative-formation around the exhibits theme, and, with the help of
visitors, generated a dialogue that responds the question raised by the
“Crucifixion of the Feminine” exhibit. “What would the social psyche be
like if the feminine spirit was allowed to be honored and celebrate with
the equality of the masculine.”
Themes:
“Crucifixion of the Feminine” examines the absence of the feminine
in Christian mythology and theocracy. Through the artwork of Kris Haas,
the Christian Cross becomes a layered funeral shroud that covers up the
earlier human pro to-myth of regeneration as a feminine power. In
examining the crucifixion story “crucified, dead, and buried,” was
raised “on the third day,” not as a crucifixion of a godhead to ransom
back humanity from sin, but as a story of how the feminine, inherent in
humanity, was displaced as a fiver of eternal life by a theocracy that
turns its back on its natural biological heritage.
In collaboration with photographer Allison Kramer, Kris Haas will
produce a series of staged photographs showing the figure on the
crucifixion cross as one of feminine spirit. The visual narrative
presupposes the mythical figure of the crucified Christ as the usurpation
of the feminine power granting rebirth through death, and the Crucifixion
event becomes a point where the theocracy removes the power of rebirth
from the feminine power and claims power of the natural process of
regeneration.
In the aftermath of the artistic examination, the art provides a
context for dialogue for women and men who have experienced living a
life where the feminine aspect of there sex is denigrated and suppressed.
Kris Haas speaks of her own experience, and her interpretation of the
repression within a masculine-dominated belief system and family life.
Through the presence of a public forum and internet message
board, women and men will talk about their own story, and read the
stories of others. At the same time the art grants an environment where
the sacred feminine is recognized for its power of hope, unity and
redemption, while the power of the eternal life through reincarnation is
de-constructed from a dominating theocracy and re-placed back into each
of us.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
"Into The InBetween"
“Into the Inbetween”
Where the silence of the moment lies
The place that holds no known boundaries
The place where judgments do not exist
The place that defines you and not
The place bridging the gap between who we are and who we are becoming
The place you can go to to be safe in who you are and secure with the constant knowing that it will always be there when you need it. It is always constant with what you want even when you forget its existence
“Into the Inbetween” I slip uncovered and open
The place I go to in the act of creation
Kris Haas
October ‘06
Where the silence of the moment lies
The place that holds no known boundaries
The place where judgments do not exist
The place that defines you and not
The place bridging the gap between who we are and who we are becoming
The place you can go to to be safe in who you are and secure with the constant knowing that it will always be there when you need it. It is always constant with what you want even when you forget its existence
“Into the Inbetween” I slip uncovered and open
The place I go to in the act of creation
Kris Haas
October ‘06
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
Progressing Forward With My Art Career
Plain and simple it just feels good to always be moving forward with my art and my career as an artist. It truly is a great life. Great in the sense that it is always up to me how much I want or don't want to put into it. I always find it funny now days when I look on the Portland Craigslist under artist and to see the whining of the anti-RACC, anti-art person and all of the other comments that follow. It appears that many of these so called artist have no clue as to what it takes to be a professional artist. When I say "professional" I don't mean commercial, I mean some one who has dedicated there life to there art and making a full time career out of it, or not. Many up and coming artist that whine about the art scene are doing so because they have not had many opportunities to be able to show or sell there work. They seem to think just because they put paint to canvas or snap a few pictures that it is art worth someone's investment of time and money to purchase or support or promote. The ego gets in the way far to many times at this point. I do not feel these type of people are true artist. They are wannabees, or better put whhiinnnabeees. The world is full of too many of these types. The work is the important thing and any artist that has stuck with it for any length of time knows this to be true.
I myself can't go for more then a few days without working. It is like breathing to me.
I am glad that now I am in a place to handle most anything that can come my way with my work. Even if things were to start taking off even faster then they are now I know I would be able to handle everything coming my way. My assistant mentioned to me before the holiday's that there are a few steps I need to take first but that when everything will be breaking wide open (and it feels like it is very soon) (so scary to actually admit that out in the open, oh my god/goddess-I believe in equality among the worshiping of the deity's) that it will happen fast because I do have soooo much work. It feels extremely satisfying to say this. I love being prolific. And anyway I get to add a new word to my everyday vocabulary. PRROOOLLIIIFIICC. Say it now. PROLIFIC!
I myself can't go for more then a few days without working. It is like breathing to me.
I am glad that now I am in a place to handle most anything that can come my way with my work. Even if things were to start taking off even faster then they are now I know I would be able to handle everything coming my way. My assistant mentioned to me before the holiday's that there are a few steps I need to take first but that when everything will be breaking wide open (and it feels like it is very soon) (so scary to actually admit that out in the open, oh my god/goddess-I believe in equality among the worshiping of the deity's) that it will happen fast because I do have soooo much work. It feels extremely satisfying to say this. I love being prolific. And anyway I get to add a new word to my everyday vocabulary. PRROOOLLIIIFIICC. Say it now. PROLIFIC!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
The Depths Of Hell Where I Have Been
You experience the void of where I have been and it does not exist.
You experience the want you have and it does not exist.
You experience the need you have and it does not exist.
What does exist is the memory of the need, the want, the void.
I cry on wanted shoulders. I cry on shoulders that do not want. The wanting cries on shoulders.
Crossroads are where I am at and feels as if my existence has been here too long. I grieve for my crying, I grieve for my cryings wanting, I grieve for my cryings wanting to know there is less sadness worth crying for.
Why do I grieve so now? The now is wanting to know. The now knows. The now is jealous of the know.
There is another baby in my belly. This baby is weaker. This baby hides. This baby is scared and wants to run and hide. She is gone. Nothing, nothing more to say of her of her that runs and hides.
She is there. She is over there, and here? Not sure. She wants to place herself here and there in the existence of man and yet is puzzled why the wanting of such a menial task.
She places herself as she sees she must, here and there and everywhere and yet she is able to catch herself and wonder why???
Is this something she feels is thrust upon her from the himself masculine trait. Confusion reigns in her belly, in her legs, in her heart, her head and becomes confused for the senseless actions and feelings that she has been consumed by. This when she knows it is non of the above since it is becoming neither and both.
When does the she become the I and we that is able to move past the severe remembrance of the great pain inside. The great pain inside that she is so so so so so afraid to show. Will this remembrance of pain that she thought may have left her, ever be gone? Is she chosen to keep this. The why is the question and not. There is always the question.
There is always the question. This I know without a doubt. What aches my heart sooooo much at this time to write these past pages is that of this time I truly do not feel-truly- any love for me other then my own. My heart brakes now.
The void is there now.
Moments later-still struggling-focusing on the opposite to different aspects in the room. So tired now. So tired. Dreams of being tired last night.
She chooses to confront the masculine and knows it is the father. It is the father in her mind and sky. It is the father above. She ask why? The father says "because you have been chosen!" The she is afraid. The she that knows she is he and he is above and below she. He is that which she is not and is. Too SIMPLIFIED. YOU/I know better then that.
Empty now-that is what I feel. Exhaustion as well. Confusion. Not sure where to go. No human arms to go to, this I grieve for.
The beauty of tears running down the face.
I AM JUST FEELING.
Monday, February 4th, 2008
I have not wanted to look at the previous passage from several days ago until now. The now only prompted me to look because of an artist site that I was on. The artist is allowing herself the beautiful raw exposure of expression no matter how painful. This scares me to do it in the publics eye other then my painting and yet I know I must. I feel as if in this lifetime I have lived thousands of lives and it can be overwhelming.
Scared am I to be thought a fraud if I did not expose myself as deeply-no scared am I of feeling all that I have kept subdued-yes. I feel as if I might never return if I do.
You experience the want you have and it does not exist.
You experience the need you have and it does not exist.
What does exist is the memory of the need, the want, the void.
I cry on wanted shoulders. I cry on shoulders that do not want. The wanting cries on shoulders.
Crossroads are where I am at and feels as if my existence has been here too long. I grieve for my crying, I grieve for my cryings wanting, I grieve for my cryings wanting to know there is less sadness worth crying for.
Why do I grieve so now? The now is wanting to know. The now knows. The now is jealous of the know.
There is another baby in my belly. This baby is weaker. This baby hides. This baby is scared and wants to run and hide. She is gone. Nothing, nothing more to say of her of her that runs and hides.
She is there. She is over there, and here? Not sure. She wants to place herself here and there in the existence of man and yet is puzzled why the wanting of such a menial task.
She places herself as she sees she must, here and there and everywhere and yet she is able to catch herself and wonder why???
Is this something she feels is thrust upon her from the himself masculine trait. Confusion reigns in her belly, in her legs, in her heart, her head and becomes confused for the senseless actions and feelings that she has been consumed by. This when she knows it is non of the above since it is becoming neither and both.
When does the she become the I and we that is able to move past the severe remembrance of the great pain inside. The great pain inside that she is so so so so so afraid to show. Will this remembrance of pain that she thought may have left her, ever be gone? Is she chosen to keep this. The why is the question and not. There is always the question.
There is always the question. This I know without a doubt. What aches my heart sooooo much at this time to write these past pages is that of this time I truly do not feel-truly- any love for me other then my own. My heart brakes now.
The void is there now.
Moments later-still struggling-focusing on the opposite to different aspects in the room. So tired now. So tired. Dreams of being tired last night.
She chooses to confront the masculine and knows it is the father. It is the father in her mind and sky. It is the father above. She ask why? The father says "because you have been chosen!" The she is afraid. The she that knows she is he and he is above and below she. He is that which she is not and is. Too SIMPLIFIED. YOU/I know better then that.
Empty now-that is what I feel. Exhaustion as well. Confusion. Not sure where to go. No human arms to go to, this I grieve for.
The beauty of tears running down the face.
I AM JUST FEELING.
Monday, February 4th, 2008
I have not wanted to look at the previous passage from several days ago until now. The now only prompted me to look because of an artist site that I was on. The artist is allowing herself the beautiful raw exposure of expression no matter how painful. This scares me to do it in the publics eye other then my painting and yet I know I must. I feel as if in this lifetime I have lived thousands of lives and it can be overwhelming.
Scared am I to be thought a fraud if I did not expose myself as deeply-no scared am I of feeling all that I have kept subdued-yes. I feel as if I might never return if I do.
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