Center for Creative Connections

Feeding the artist's soul is sometimes tricky. The artist's soul doesn't always admit it could use a new plate of inspiration. When it does, it has to overcome the power of afterwork inertia, the tendency for a body that has taken off its shoes to keep its shoes off, and pocketbook depression.

That's why I renewed my Dallas Museum of Art teacher's membership this week. A teacher's membership is only forty dollars, but it lacks the frills of a regular membership. Still, it gets me to put on my shoes and take a three dollar DART ride downtown to refuel my artist soul and teaching spirit at least once a month.

The new Center for Creative Connections exhibit, "Materials & Meanings," is inspirational fuel for teachers and artists. It is in the space formerly taken over by the children's exhibits at the DMA, but now shared. The 12,000-square-foot interactive learning environment lets visitors of all ages experience works of art and artists with a focus on the Museum’s collections. Two walls of the center were designed by architecture students and faculty at the University of Texas-Arlington, and they got me really pumped. My favorite was the wall divider below:


From the DMA website.

The glowing white section on the far left is made of clear drinking straws poked through all the holes in a metal grid like an oversized window screen. The grid has been curved, and then lighted. It's similar to the idea of sticking Dixie cups in a chain link fence to spell out "We support our troops," but more aesthetically pleasing.

The second panel from the left is made of shiny nuts linked together with copper wire to make an interior decorating version of chain mail. My hardware store fantasies are reignited.

Third from left is a panel of sea anemone in a vertical tide pool until you look close. Bunches of heavy duty white plastic zip ties have been attached to the metal grid resembling an albino Pebbles Flintstone's hairdo.

Fifth; a latchhook shag carpet made of one-inch wide strips of splattered painters' plastic dropcloths. Sixth; a splendidly simple divider of folded paper. Next; curtains of paper clips, walls of binder clips, rainbows of wrapped thread...

I am reenergized! True, I want to go immediately and rent a large former industrial space with large windows, exposed ductwork, concrete floor, and go crazy building and weaving my own screens and dividers from recyclables.

So why isn't there a Sims: Artist Studio Loft game?

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder