case sensitive: get it here
$650 apartment for $650
16 SEPT 05
Trying to create order, clearing the surfaces, putting things away. The trouble is those other things already on the shelves. Piles of notebooks & papers, squares of painted canvas for projects that never got done. Pretty soon I have twice as much stuff on the floor. For instance, a series of paintings I made from the movie To Kill a Mockingbird, the scene where Jem and Scout walk home through the dark woods and she's in the Ham costume.
I watched this scene over and over without sound. I had in mind to make a quilt of ten or so small paintings, and I created a long text for it that involved a visit from Freud's niece. (I wonder where that is.)
In my version, Jem looked more like a boy from Eastern Europe.
And I kept forgetting the eye slot in the ham.
Somehow the project never quite gelled. But I've held on to the pieces, in case.
It occurs to me that a blog can be a place to store things.
14 SEPT 05
I think of you.
"Intrigued" asks for time.
Because remember "just driving"?
What we believe is gradually revealed by our actions.
I made my 5 things list. There are 8 things on it.
Like the astrologer told me: everybody wants to be reborn but no one wants to die.
You have the plate you can’t drink from. And that one’s missing an arm.
"The down and up of burn down and burn up are intensives. Burn down is limited to structures and candles: burn up, however, can be used of anything when one wishes to convey the idea that the destruction was complete." (Dictionary of Contemporary English Usage, 1957)
"But what if then is now." (Susan Howe)
12 SEPT 05
Many of us are on our second or third round of giving to various relief efforts. In the department of finding $ you didn't know you had, consider that some organizations and businesses offer matching donations. For instance, if your site or blog is being hosted by Dreamhost, they'll match the whole amount you give to the Red Cross here.
Premiere issue of Fascicle
Issue 8 of Word For/Word
Sudden appearance of The Duplications
I really like it when after you lose a contest you get the winning book in the mail for free or for a pittance. New Michigan Press does this and so I've just received a chapbook by Rachel Moritz, which has me rapt. From the page I'm on, p. 21:
Dull inside the peeling walls
Can you see the little dusts
(from The Winchester Monologues)
Did some painting yesterday. First time in a while. Thought of standing on the beach near where the ferry comes in, watching the fires across the bay. Days of breathing that smoke. I went back into the big black canvas, ruined it enough to give me something to work with.
(from Summa Lyrica in The Sighted Singer)
I don't know if I think that's true but I think it's beautiful.
8 SEPT 05
and look into this:
Joan Snyder, Louise Fishman, Brenda Goodman, Pat Pasloff. The work of the first three I already know & admire. They're asked to say a little about themselves. Pasloff tells about becoming a student of de Kooning's (his only student, when he was hired as an unknown and shunned by all at Black Mountain back in the day). Fishman and Goodman speak movingly of their mothers, bringing to my mind V. Woolf's comment that "we think back through our mothers if we are women."*
They show slides. Slides of paintings are weird. They've always seemed dumb & old-fashioned. The viewing in the dark never natural or enveloping--it's awkward, the "...next" with the description of how big it really is, and the inevitable one or two upside down or backwards. (When slides finally stop being the accepted form of displaying art in absentia, it'll probably be like vinyl: everyone will say they were so much warmer and bigger.)
Lately reproductions of all kinds interest me a lot. And, for various reasons, I lean toward the idea of making art that's multiple. But there's something I feel in the presence of the unrepeatable object, the thing that time was found or stolen for and is now visible in, "indwelling." I don't think I'm being sentimental. The built & sanded & marked by hand only-one still seems worth making, and traveling to see.
Joan Snyder has a show up now until October 21 at the Jewish Museum in Manhattan (moving north after that to the Danforth Museum), and a big book on her work (finally) coming out this fall from Abrams.
Back in the house, there's an email from photographer (and my internet pal) Sandy Dyas: her daughter Jamie Elizabeth Hudrlik, a young painter living in Chicago, has her first site up. I don't notice that the images onscreen are yet another kind of reproduction. Instead I feel: Painting! not dead, again!
4 SEPT 05
2 SEPT 05
Working against deadlines. Always late. Months passed, dreams piled up. "If art comes from where the dreams come from." Someone on the list today, from another country, said: "The U.S. federal government seems to model its behaviour after bad action thrillers."
What the art of a period of time shows us is different from what history shows. If art is a record of how people have felt, what they thought, and what came through them, history is a story about what they did. It changes as perspectives change, "truth" is uncovered or buried deeper. But basically the story is all about who got on top of who, and the awful shit that happened then.
I have a baby with me, not mine. Like a plant--"nature boy"--his hair is green and black, fernish. Taking him home. Who’s driving? me? Everyone wants to look (but not really interested). Am I taking good enough care of him? (Not mine. And he’s so tiny.)What can artists do to help alleviate the suffering of their time? Can we only reflect the group mind, or can we actually affect it? With art, I mean.
"The dream story is not the dream itself." *