After weeks of concept development, drafting, and one critique, here is the final version of my final project for Animals, People and Those In Between — the Tempus Fugit coloring book (translation: time flies).

Shots of the installation:

Tempus Fugit large banner with coloring books below

Tempus Fugit banner and coloring book display

Tempus Fugit Coloring Book Display

Tempus Fugit banner alone

Fan of Tempus Fugit coloring books

This isn’t the best way to share this information, but it will have to do for now — here are PDFs of each page of the book: in book form and each page on its own.

And, of course, since it’s hard to read the tiny type on the bottom of those images, here’s the final text without images, for your reading pleasure (PDF).

——–Process & Decision Making———

I decided to do two things:

• create a stand-alone coloring book (instead of making pages and sticking them back into an existing book)
• make one page really large to draw the viewer to the book

The decision to make a stand-alone book came from the feedback that I should make the work more my own, abstract away from the material I was using as a guide.  This allowed me to break up the text and put fewer words on each page, which is a good way to get people to actually read the story.  I ended up making 12 pages, up from the 6 I had originally created.  The new pages show varied perspectives, I tried to treat the coloring book more like a comic book or storyboard.

Another piece of feedback was to play with scale and literally inflate the fly.  Part of me had a dream of making each page huge and displaying them as a gigantic mural, but after I finished the book I knew it wasn’t realistic to recreate each page on a 4′x5′ page.  Since I had to be strategic, I picked one page that I thought would interest viewers and hopefully encourage them to pick up the book.  (I also felt it was important to select a page that would allow me to draw a really big fly and that didn’t have too much text since the hand lettering is very time consuming.)  Instead of being displayed on its own, the poster becomes a backdrop for the coloring book.

Both of these pieces work to support the ultimate goal of the project: to elevate the fly.

—————-Post Mortem—————-

The critique in class went well.  The progress since last week, and the incorporation of the first draft comments into the final product, was noticed and appreciated.  In general, people liked the big banner and felt it did draw them to the coloring book.  Because I had made a few coloring books, people were able to pass them around and read some of the text, which was generally enjoyed.  (I was glad to hear that because I spent a lot of time working on the story and doing background research and character development.)

One comment was that it could be weirder still — grosser, weirder with more odd details and pages that highlight the fly’s fly-ness.  The question of audience was also brought up — who is this for?  The language and the story is adult but the context (Roman history) is usually taught to middle schoolers.  I had envisioned it for adults, I never thought this was something that kids or young people would use or enjoy; the magic is in the text and without that it becomes kind of confusing.

Overall, I felt good about the class presentation.  Who knows, maybe I’ll spend my summer compiling a series of weird insect fable comic books…

Concept and form exploration for Animals final project continues…

I’ve decided to build out the Virgil story, to elaborate it and give the fly a bigger role as a hero.  I want to elevate the fly and give him agency in this story.

Regarding form, I want to tell this story in a way that lends credibility, that makes it seem true.  While it might not be the most obvious path, I decided to retell this fake story as truth using the format of an educational, historical coloring book.  These books pair complicated, sometimes lengthy, text with very detailed drawings.  It’s not entirely clear who the audience is for this material — the reading level is higher than that of kids who usually color.  The series suggests using the pages as supplemental material in the classroom.  But one thing is for sure: if you want to color in the pictures well, it’s going to take you a lot of time, some of which you’ll probably spend reading the text at the bottom of the page.

I wrote a draft of the story then purchased source of some really good material for the images: Life in Ancient Rome coloring book.  I drew some thumbnails to outline the story in pictures.

Sketches for Animals Final – Coloring Book Pages 1-3

Sketches for Animals Final – Coloring Book Pages 4-6

I used the images from the coloring book as material for my final product by reconfiguring parts from many images to create a new image. Getting from the thumbnails to the final version involved many steps of translation.  I kind of felt like I was a copyist in ancient Roman times; writing and re-writing some important work.

First: draft the layout with all the images at 100% — I had made a few photocopies of pages I thought would be useful.  Little did I know that there would be useful material on almost every page!  So these first layouts use cutouts as well as tracing to put together the image.  I included notes about elements that needed to be shrunk, enlarged, or repeated.

Page 1 – Fly overhears the conversation

Page 2 – Fly tells Virgil what’s up

Page 3 – Virgil & Fly hatch a plan

Page 4 – Fly’s last moments

Page 5 – Fly funeral

Page 6 – Virgil’s estate is saved

Second: create the final layout with properly sized elements — after making dozens (a hundred?) photocopies, I started the process of cutting out and rearranging the parts to create the final version of each page.  Not surprisingly, some layouts were revised in this process.

Page 1 – Final Layout

Page 2 – Final Layout

Page 3 – Final Layout

Page 4 – Final Layout

Page 5 – Final Layout

Page 6 – Final Layout

Third: trace the final layouts — after the pieces had been properly cobbled together, I had to trace each one.  The point of doing this is to get, eventually, a very good photocopy that doesn’t show any cutting or taping.  I want the final version to look like a drew it, not like I pasted it together from a bunch of other pieces.  Also, there were some parts that I had to (eek!) freehand and I wanted those parts to blend in with the professional drawing as well as possible.  Once the tracing was done, I printed out the text and added it to the bottom of each page.

Page 1 – Tracing & Text

Page 2 – Tracing & Text

Page 3 – Tracing & Text

Page 4 – Tracing & Text

Page 5 – Tracing & Text

Page 6 – Tracing & Text

Fourth: photocopy the tracings — By this time, the people at the Staples on Flatbush & Tilden are pretty tired of seeing me hanging around for hours at a time.  Especially because the machine that I need to use (the scanning is so much better on the color copier than on the ones that only do black & white!) keeps malfunctioning and requiring a reboot.  I have to ask them for help constantly, which feels bad because they are super busy.

Page 1 – Final Photocopy

Page 2 – Final Photocopy

Page 3 – Final Photocopy

Page 4 – Final Photocopy

Page 5 – Final Photocopy

Page 6 – Final Photocopy

The final photocopies turned out really good!  I feel like they look exactly like the coloring book, which is what I was going for.  I want to put the pages into the book itself but, for the critique of our first drafts, I decided to keep them separated so they can be seen by  many people at once.

Pages bound into a book: how I did not end up showing the work

—————-Post Mortem——————–

We had two guest critics to critique the first drafts of our final projects.  The feedback I got was useful, but I’m not entirely sure how to incorporate it into refining my final project.

• One comment was that the coloring book pages were too similar to the original form, that I should abstract away from that form, reinterpret it somehow, make it my own.  I have to say, this is a problem I have in general.  I always take things too literally and follow the rules too closely.  So, I need to push myself to diverge, to abstract, to move away from this form but still reference the form.
• Another comment was that I should consider how to create a sense of narration in the environment in which it will be shown.  If the text is an important part of the narration, then how can I force people to spend time with the text and actually read it.  What will make people pay attention to the final product?  Would it be more successful broken down into smaller bits, more pages with less text on each page?  Or maybe it should be presented as a wall mural instead of as a little book?

Flies are strongly associated with death.  They live off death.  Flies can smell dead flesh from a mile away.  Flies lay eggs on the rotting corpse or other decaying matter and the emerging maggots consume the flesh, subsequently forming pupae and developing into flies.  Most flies live for only about a month.  And what happens when the fly dies?  Is its corpse eaten and degraded by other flies?  Is there anyone who mourns the death of the fly?

Individuals are remembered and mourned with obituaries and eulogies.  After death, almost all humans are afforded this treatment, animals, not so often.  The obituary in its standard form and placement is almost exclusively for use by humans.  Writing an obituary for an animal and asking for it to be treated equally causes disruption; it blurs the line between animal object and subject and legitimizes public mourning that is typically reserved for humans.  Jane Desmond, an anthropologist, contributed an article about pet obituaries to the 2011 book Making Animal Meaning.  In 2003, Desmond’s local paper, the Iowa City Press-Citizen, published an obituary for a dog, named Bear, in its standard obituary section.  There was public outcry against the publication and the managing editor later issued an apology and a clear statement of the paper’s policy on pet obituaries (to publish them in the classified section).  Desmond’s analysis is that public mourning elevates the pet to a legitimate part of the family, akin to a blood relation, that is uncomfortable for many people.

Arguably, a fly is never anyone’s pet.  Some research scientists, entomologists, and paleoentomologists work closely with flies, get to know them, care for them in some circumstances, but they probably do not consider them equal to pets.  Has anyone ever written an obituary for a fly?

There is a story about a funeral for a fly associated with Virgil.  As the story goes, Virgil held an extravagant funeral for his pet fly.  A retelling on the Cabinet Magazine website states “the funeral attracted the great and good of the city. Dirges were sung and tributes read. Virgil’s patron, Maecenas, delivered a lengthy and moving eulogy to the departed insect, and Virgil was himself said to have uttered a few of his exquisite verses over the tiny carcass.”  But this wasn’t all just for show; the fly’s tomb saved Virgil from having to give over his property to the Second Triumvirate, which came into power shortly after, as they made an exception for estates containing burial plots.

Cabinet deconstructs the story, trying to determine whether or not it’s based in truth.  After Virgil’s death in 19 BCE a poem attributed to him called ‘Culex’ (The Gnat) surfaced.  The poem tells the story of a sleeping shepherd who was awakened by the bite of a gnat.  Upon waking, annoyed, he smashes the gnat.  His attention is then drawn to a nearby snake poised to attack.  The shepherd reacts quickly and kills it, saving his own life.  Later that night, the gnat’s ghost visits him and reprimands him for not showing him any gratitude.  The shepherd is shamed and subsequently builds a large monument to the gnat.  That story was interpreted by Felix Boisselier in an 1808 painting The Shepherd.

Felix Boisselier, The Shepherd, 1808, oil on canvas.

Virgil became associated with flies in other ways as well.  It is said that he created a large bronze fly to keep the city of Naples free from fly infestation.  For the eight years it remained in place, the city was unbothered.  He is also credited with sending swarms of flies after armies that tried to attack the city.

In ancient Rome, during Virgil’s lifetime, all death was mourned publicly.  Bodies were put on display then paraded out of the city where they were cremated, the remains placed in an urn.  Proper burial was considered essential for transition to the afterlife.  Individuals who were poor or who had no family to attend to a proper funeral belonged to clubs which provided this function.

Ancient Roman funeral pyre and funeral procession. Print, 1784-1785.  From NYPL Digital Gallery.

Cinerary urns [and] funeral pyre, Rome. Print, 1784-1785, Simon Charles Miger.  From NYPL Digital Gallery.

An appropriate and meaningful funeral for a fly would follow these same guidelines.  My current thinking is to write a eulogy, channeling the emotion of Virgil and Maecenas, his patron, and to present this in the form of an audio recording.  Accompanying the audio, a recreation of the public mourning.  I haven’t determined the best form for this recreation.  One option is a drawing, in the style of the prints above.  Another possibility is to create a diorama depicting the mourning, procession, and cremation.  When I consider this form, I think of the exhibits at the Museum of Jurassic Technology – detailed depictions of fabricated or fictionalized events.

Mobile Home Diorama  at the Museum of Jurassic Technology

And also the scene from Beetlejuice with the fly in the model graveyard:

Fly in Scale Model Graveyard from Beetlejuice

A third form I’m considering is photography.  This would involve building some aspects of the public mourning, procession, and pyre (not in as much detail as the diorama would require), then photographing the scenes.  A source of inspiration for this work comes from Catherine Chalmers.  Her work with roaches, flies, other insects, and rodents is thought provoking.

Particularly relevant work includes Burning at the Stake cockroach video:

http://www.catherinechalmers.com/american-cockroach/video/burning-at-the-stake/

Houseflies photography:

Fly Sex Photograph by Catherine Chalmers

http://www.catherinechalmers.com/houseflies/photography/

and Houseflies audio:

http://www.catherinechalmers.com/houseflies/video/

and the Foodchain photography series:

http://www.catherinechalmers.com/food-chain/food-chain/

I want the final project to have a feeling of gravity even though the concept involves a bit of absurdity.  I don’t want it to feel insincere although the idea of a funeral for a fly is silly.  I want to build up the story, make it seem real, actually get people to think about whether or not something like this could have happened.

Here are some rough initial sketches:

Sketch of Fly Funeral Diorama

Sketch of Fly Funeral Procession

Sketch of Fly Funeral Pyre

Matchstick Fly Funeral Pyre

Matchstick Fly Funeral Pyre with “Fly”

I’m most drawn to the idea of a diorama or a series of photographs.  I love those tiny, creepy re-creations.  My next steps are to build some of these elements and determine whether they are better presented in 2D or 3D.

For this assignment and our final piece, we have to adopt an animal from the Reaktion series of books.  I’ve chosen fly.  Fly can be elusive, a little hard to get to know.  Let’s explore who he is:

The fly’s numbers cannot be controlled.  Although small in size, he is mighty in numbers and can invade, take over, even the most sacred of spaces.  He has blatant disregard for the taboo: he defiles what is clean, he will block out the sun without thinking twice.  The fly pays no attention to needs outside of himself.  He knows that his very existence is bothersome, disturbing, and he exploits that to get what he wants.

The fly flits about, cavorting here and there, but the fly is also self-conscious.  He doesn’t want to be seen, he wants to blend in, he wants to look, to see, without being seen.  He is deceptive and mischievous.  It can be cute when taken to an extreme; the fly peeking around the corner to catch a glimpse of what’s happening, attempting to creep in order to avoid notice, disguising himself as part of the wall, the furniture, the plate to grab a bite undisturbed.

The fly is sociable to a degree.  He enjoys being part of the swarm, fraternizing while supping on something sweet or enjoying the warmth of the sun.  But he will also strike out on his own in search of an exit to the outside world or a more delicious meal.  And he will turn his back on his brethren if an opportunity is presented.  He is selfish.  Although selfish, he wants to be part of everything, to know everything.  He will eavesdrop on the quietest conversations and is not ashamed to lurk in the most private chambers.  Your secrets are safe with him; he’ll never reveal what he’s seen or heard.

The fly has a large extended family and hundreds of close friends, many of whom are pictured here.  The fly was born on a piece of garbage and continues to visit the place of his birth often.  His own parents and many of his children were also born on that same piece of garbage.  It’s an important part of the family history, a history that he really can’t recall.  The fly doesn’t have much of a memory so he can’t make decisions based on previous outcomes.  He lives in the now, from moment to moment, without regard for consequence.  He sees the world around him as full of opportunity—everything is something to eat or someplace to rest.

In class, I set up the snail diptych on a small bench.  I set the comic up on the right side of the bench, leaving the left side open, and put the clock on the ground at an angle with one side touching the leg of the bench.  My thinking was that by leaving one side of the bench open I was inviting people to sit down next to the comic, creating a space for them to “hear” a joke.  And placing the clock on the floor forced the viewer to get down to a snail’s level and experience a snail’s point of view.  The critique of the piece was really interesting.

Midterm Snail Diptych Installation

Midterm Diptych Installation

Snail Diptych – Comic on Bench, Clock Below

Snail Joke Cut Paper Comic Installation

Snail Clock Installation

Some reactions and comments were expected: people were able to recognize that the snail was the animal and that the two pieces were a clock and a comic.  In general, people liked the comic.  They thought the pacing was good and that it looked nice.  Some feedback was a bit of a surprise.  There was some confusion about whether or not it was OK to pick it up and touch it or if they were supposed to peer around it in order to read the panels on the back.  In general, people did not feel like they were being invited to sit down.  In fact, people sat on the floor to read the comic and look at the clock and no one sat on the bench at all.  One person suggested that a pillow or cushion on the bench might make it more inviting.  I agree, and that wasn’t something I had considered: making the space comfortable will make it more inviting.  Another comment was that if there were many benches then it would be clear that benches are for sitting, but with only one it’s hard to determine whether it’s an off-limits part of the installation or functioning as a regular bench functions.

The class also took issue with the placement of the clock and its, well, general existence.  I wasn’t so shocked to hear this but it was interesting to get direct feedback about this part of the piece.  Some people felt uncomfortable with the off-center placement, that it was accidental but not in a good way.  Others didn’t mind the odd angle; they thought it made the piece seem more found and precious.  (That’s what I was going for so I was glad that at least a couple people perceived it in that way.)  Truth be told, I struggled with the placement of that clock, whether it should be flush with the corner or not.  I knew I wanted it on the ground because it is really meant for a snail and, as mentioned, my idea was that a snail would crawl around on it.  In the end, I decided to place it at an angle so that it would seem less intentional, but from the critique I learned that it’s important to consider the effect that crookedness can have on a viewer.  It tends to communicate that something is wrong and, in this particular piece, that is not what I wanted to say.

There was some confusion in the class about how the snail would use the clock,. Someone asked how the snail would get to it, or away from it, since it’s in a pen.  That was something that hadn’t occurred to me at all; I envisioned the clock and the surrounding foliage to be a sort of sample of the snail’s environment, but the way it came out it looked like a fence or pen surrounding the clock.  It had built a tiny cage!  Just the opposite of what I wanted.  That was a really interesting line of comments and so helpful in understanding what I’d done wrong in the setup and conceptualization of the project.  I’d been so focused on reconstruction a portion of a habitat, I’d forgotten to figure out how to communicate that it is, in fact, only part of something, not its entirety.

One additional comment about the clock was that it doesn’t feel like it’s for a snail.  I think you really have to own your work and not make excuses for the decisions you made or failed to make (it’s almost like these things are your family members, you have to stick up for and accept them even while admitting their flaws), so I didn’t talk about this in class but perhaps it’s OK to say so in the post mortem blog: I agree with this comment.  It’s hard for me to admit that I wasn’t able to figure out a better, more creative solution, but I think that’s basically what happened.  As I talked about in the process section, I was spinning my wheels thinking about time-telling and didn’t follow any abstract thoughts or ideas.

I took a lot away from this critique and I feel like I’m in a better place to begin thinking about my final project.  Things I learned:

• Ask people to help you – show your work to people and actually find out what they think about the decisions that you made (or didn’t make).  I bet that if I’d asked one person about the angle of that clock, I would have had the information I needed to make a better decision.
• Don’t be afraid to get abstract, but take a literal road to get there.
• Consider context – sometimes it takes a lot of context to communicate a subtle point.

If I had to do the installation again, I would make some changes based on the feedback I received.  Assuming I can’t re-create the pieces themselves, I would fill a whole room with photocopied grass and other vegetation to create the necessary context and then place the bench, the comic, and the clock in that space.  I would put the comic on the left side of the bench and leave the right side open, to encourage the viewer to sit between the pieces.  I’d put a cushion on the bench.  The clock would be on the ground next to the bench, blending in with its surroundings, and the person sitting on the bench could see it if they looked down.  While this new installation doesn’t solve all of the problems, I think it addresses some issues that the class had with the piece.  Here’s a little sketch:

A revised hypothetical installation plan.