assignment for the day.
while on a stroll collect ten versions (or more) of a chosen object. document them in some way.
thought i'm having while walking to DeFazio's to get dinner...
what if everything in the world was one inch smaller?
think about that for a moment.
the air is cooler now.
i try to not step on leaves as i walk.
it gets harder every day.
...the braille trail, what an amazing idea.
...psychogeoraphy, a form of guerilla art based on random walking tours, and using techniques to change the way we look at our space. a site that I am enjoying immensely glowlab. I'm sorry I could not attend the recent conference.
...on a related theme i simply must try experimental travel.
...I just ordered a couple of these for myself. (link via camilla.)
...a trip to the ocean via dosa, I wish this site had more pages.
...some wonderful sounds here. (thank you nina)
...caroline woodward does some clever things.
...david byrne discovers a hidden puppet library in brooklyn. (actually his friend kenny did.)
The quote that is hard to read says,
“There is no such thing as an empty space or an empty time. There is always something to see, something to hear.” ~John Cage
Last night I sat at the top of the hill and watched the most incredible sunset. Spent some time with a chubby groundhog who was too busy eating to be bothered by my presence. I talked to him while he chewed.
Finished “Spell of the Sensuous”, found it to be life impacting. It clarified a lot of thoughts I’ve been having about what I’m doing as an artist. (thought tangent: my favourite teacher Ross Mendes always used to exclaim, “it’ll change your life!", often about art supplies or a book. Some things do. I can still hear his voice in my head now and then.)
Picked up a few of the Charles & Rae Eames films. Learned the phrase “the exploration of the familiar”, how Stieglitz would describe his work. I like that. I’m going to use it somehow. He said that he always found his subjects within 60 yards of his door.
Also finished the published datebooks of Eva Hesse, tiny notebooks she would use to record the details of a life. It was the smallest glimpse into her world and left me wanting more. Unfortunately her diaries have not been released to the public and are sitting in a university in Oberlin Ohio waiting to be published. (which incidentally is one of the places we stopped in on our journey to ny. this has nothing to do with anything, except that I can tell you I would not recommend the mexican food.)
i am currently in research mode, reading and reading. following a stream of connections from one book to the next. digging through the library shelves for hidden gems. all of these ideas go in and sit waiting to be used for something. i have no idea what that will be. but i love the process.
I'm writing this from my class. It's called "deep listening" taught by Pauline Oliveros. She was a contemporary of John Cage.
you can understand my excitement.
she is like a zen monk. calm and centered.
today we were asked to bring a found sound.
I brought my bike wheel.
I'm going to go play it now. Maybe I will let you hear a recording here later.
here it is:
I like the idea of 'found sound'.
the possibilities are endless.
what can you hear right now?
right where you are sitting.
As you might imagine, having one’s office out on the curb makes for an interesting dialogue with many of the neighbors. Tonight a woman getting out of her car said, “I think that might be the perfect place to have an office.” I responded, “The great thing about it is I can’t be here for too long, my battery goes.” After she left I thought, I guess it is actually a wonderful thing, I admit to have many times of not liking it these last few weeks. Of wanting to be able to set up my studio, and put photos on the walls, and make things to hang, and arrange my books.
But maybe sitting here right now, breathing in fresh air, under this ancient maple tree, talking to the neighbors, maybe I could actually enjoy this too instead of focusing on what I’m missing. Ha.
I have been really into John Cage these last few weeks and this idea feeds into the readings. He speaks in part on the Buddhist concept of non-intention, as he puts it, “the affirmation of life as it is rather than the desire to improve upon it.”
“Each moment is absolute, alive and significant”.
I get excited reading his anecdotes about life, I wish there were hundreds more. Ironically one of the things I enjoy most about him was his passion for wild food, especially mushrooms. (I also have a thing for scrounging for ‘wild food’, though I have not been daring enough to do the mushroom thing without an ‘expert’.) In one story Cage relates how he made a mistake with something that looked like skunk cabbage but was instead a poisonous leafy imitation of skunk cabbage. Resulting in him having his stomach pumped and a brief stay in a nearby hospital. None of this deterred him.
Once I harvested and prepared the flower buds of milk weed. The process involves soaking it repeatedly in water to remove the bitterness and then boiling it as you would any vegetable. It tastes most like broccoli, but with it’s own stronger character. The bad part of the story is I ended up with incredibly strong intestinal pain for a couple of days. But I don’t regret it at all. I love finding food in the woods and I highly recommend it as a pastime. Other things I’ve found, watercress (only good if found in a stream with moving water), wild ginger, leeks, onions, mint, several varieties of berries, burdock root, wild grapes, dandelions, sumac (the blooms make a nice tea), chicory (the roots make an interesting coffee substitute), lambs quarters, among others. You must use your senses to find these things. Often the nose alerts you before the eyes.
In the city I forage for found objects and paper bits. In the country, I forage for food.
Both life sustaining but in different ways.
I wrote to friends recently that I find myself without comfort right now (referring to life comforts of the kind that we all crave after a long day, a comfy bed, a hot bath, a sense of organization). But afterwards I realized that this is not true. The comforts are smaller for the time being, but have just as much impact (if not more), and they are all around me if I choose to see them.
…I find them in a backpack that I have filled with pens, and a thermos of tea, my journal. The portable comfort zone that goes with me everywhere.
…In the pages of the book I am reading, “the Spell of the Sensuous” by David Abram. The ablility I have to immerse myself into another world for a time whenever I need to. This week I have been to Bali to listen to a shaman speak of magic, learned the language of the birds from a native in Alaska, and had tea with the aboriginies in Austrailia (who taught me a new way of singing).
…in the poetry of Billy Collins,
“a book like this always has a way of soothing the nerves, quieting the riotous surf of information that foams around my waist.”
…in the new table I bought, (formerly owned by a ‘machinist’ and covered in spots of brownish black grease which I will clean off), actually the only piece of furniture we own right now, (after leaving most of our possessions at a goodwill in Portland on route to NY). Yesterday I pulled a few things out of boxes, (a cloth, a lamp, some candle holders), and arranged them on the table as if it was a permanent fixture, (or as if I was.) Taking things off, trying something else. Picturing it in the new house. Just the act of decorating something gave me a sense of having a home again. A foreshadowing. (only four and a half weeks until we move. It occupies my mind constantly.)
…wandering into a bookstore with a girlfriend and excitedly sharing stories about artmaking and life. Pouring over books, photos of beautiful houses painted in bright colours, with kids and dogs running through them.
…getting ready for a new dance class this evening. I have missed the movement, and feeling my body connected to the earth. Combined with that tired muscle feeling afterwards.
….sharing good food and conversation with my husband after being apart for many hours.
…finding a waterfall by accident yesterday and climbing down to the bottom to hear it’s voice.
It said to me, “you are here.”