Sunday, winter.

A wet and dreary outlook, weather-wise, but a fine Sunday.

Wintermarket came off very well from the looks of it (a wonderful project I've lately become involved with, as a designer).

Ben and I had a lovely dinner and visit with a friend in Manhattan tonight.

On our walk between downtown and Union Square, I stopped in at a Rad Shack and found 1 gigabyte SD cards to be on sale for 13 bucks, which means I can shoot 3 times as many photographs before requiring a download to CD. Nice!

Starting tomorrow morning I have 4 days in which to accomplish very much; work-, jewelry-, gift- and prep-for trip- wise. T'will be an intense week. (Nothing new there.) The Holidays are upon us!

And now it is 12.20. Time for sleep.

.

post script : aquarium sold, and gone, as of Thursday evening. Strange. Bentwood rocking chair - found as of previous Monday- has filled aforementioned aquarium space in apartment. Odd the way things work out sometimes.

But I still miss Pi.

post post script : 143 etsians now hearting the electrofork shop.

Hark-- hail!

Cold stinging pellets are falling against my windows this morning.

Last night I was visited by some of the most intense, vivid and disturbing nightmares I've had in a very long time. (Not disturbing in any revelatory sense; just pure nonsensical surrealism that the subconscious mind so excels at, when it so chooses)

Vivid in color and texture- and also aurally vivid! I'd gone in and out of sleep, tossing and turning, drifting around and occasionally across the line of waking for what seemed hours if not days. The culmination was a semi-conscious moment at which I finally, starkly woke-- convinced I'd heard knocking at my windows, and noises away at the other end of the apartment. How could I know which noises I'd heard were dream-induced and which were real?! I was frozen in long moments of fear, until silence, wakefulness and the ongoing sounds of 5th avenue at night finally returned me to my senses (mostly).

Was it those slices from Pizza Town? Could it have been from too much coffee that morning? I will never know I'm sure, but I don't mind. I am awestruck by the occasional largess- gifts of excitement and mystery from the invisible realm.

I believe I failed to mention yesterday (in my brevity) that I had a simply awful time of going to pick up artwork from a gallery in the city. Well, awful is an exaggeration, but a frustrating afternoon nonetheless. Part of it was simple disappointment, too.

I am selling the tank- the aquarium and all its attendant accoutrement. Listed on Craigslilst a few days ago; I have a scheduled pick-up tonight which hopefully the weather will not hinder. The end of an era of large-fish husbandry for me, at least for awhile.

brevity

Heading back to Europe for a spell soon! Amsterdam will be our home base, again, with visits to friends in Munster, Germany again, and then... Paris! I've not yet been there, so that will be very exciting. We will have opportunities to see some Brooklynites in Paris, as well.

On the arts fron: Etsy is treating me very well so far- been selling loads of jewelry, so that has become something that takes up a fair amount of time. As a result, I have not done a drawing or painting in awhile. (Not a complaint; I just don't want to lose those things.)

Oh, holidays holidays holidays- this time of year is always a whirlwind!
That's my short update for now. More soon.

December Third notes

It's noon on a monday. I haven't showered or eaten breakfast; the apple is still in my fridge, only now there's also a fish in my freezer, too. His name was Pi, and he's been with me for a long time, as fish go. Years. His empty tank is still bubbling away with the filter on because I'm afraid if I turn it off the silence will be deafening. And my great aunt whom I've not seen in several years is dying in a nursing home upstate, and I didn't make time to see her over Thanksgiving.

Blustering wind outside, and bright sun.
Yesterday's snow has gone already.

bootleggers in Blighty

electrofork bootleg!

Forwarded to me from the Smokewagon boys (for whom this poster was designed, along with Rock City Crimewave): what looks to be a vinyl messenger bag adorned with my artwork! I'd love to find out where this is; all I was told is that it was taken in London. It's too bad they squashed the poor devil so much...

jewelry!

45 Etsians now calling electrofork a favorite, and I can't keep enough necklaces in stock to get past a single page of listed items! (not a complaint.) So, I have loads of new materials on the way and will be creating more necklaces, plus earrings (all sterling) as well as cufflinks (sterling and silverplate). Whoo hoo!

Now back to work.

november

Last night I had a couple zoomin' brisk bike rides along 5th avenue- to and from TL's treehouse. Nice! As of this evening, 27 people call my Etsy shop a favorite- also nice! Two more necklaces sold over the weekend.

So far November in the city has been brisk, but friendly. Smells of autumn abound. The heat is coming on as needed, but today it's good for having a window open. Pi is growing, diggin' his tank (which now has a living plant in it- it thrives on the acidity of Pi.)

All is well. New projects beginning.

Oh I didn't mention it here yet, but I had a real and proper birthday party for the first time in SO many years-- since Kelley and I were roommates!-- and it was so much fun. I knew a lot of folks wouldn't/couldn't make it, as that weekend is always coincidental with Halloween (and I wasn't exactly organized about the invitation process), but lots of folks still made it. So much fun! (I'll put another *thanks* here to Ben and TL, for helping me prep, serve and host-- and for adding so much to the night overall.) *

And now, on to winter, I suppose.

RIP DST

Oh how I hate the end of Daylight Savings Time!
Why must we switch back every autumn? Darkness at 5:30 has begun and I hate it!

Rrrggghhhh!

hmmmm

Bike ride to and through the park this afternoon, but the autumn colors there are scant as well.

seasonal

This time of year, now that the temperatures are feeling much more in keeping with our idea of seasons, makes it a difficult thing to get out of bed! The coziness of soft sheets, piled over with a down duvet; just too inviting. Discipline is required! Sheer will power!

This morning as I pulled myself reluctantly from the envelope of sleep and comfort, I smelled the tell-tale dustiness of radiator heat: winter is coming. Pi is always at his most energetic during these in-between months of coolness indoors (before the heat really gets going), being a cold water fish. He zooms around the tank, trying out impressive new moves; bending and arabesquing like one who knows he is being observed. (Well, he is, after all.)

Now if only the leaves would start to make fire with their colors.
I must try to get to the park; (surely there things are looking more aligned with the lateness of the year...)

strange sleep.

Wallet lost in a mall. Twice.

Some sort of expedition: the others who came along shifted, as situations in dreams are wont to do. An icy canoe-paddling approach to a grand shopping mall whose edges were lapped with icy water- some sort of Native American Experience tour tied into the Modern American Consumer Experience- aghast! The landing was an approximation of huts and shelters meant to emulate what life might have been like for up-north Winter Natives, but for us the ice was all synthetic, and we were not frozen and soaked through, as we would have been had we gone canoe-fishing and foraging back in the day we were meant to be imagining.

Beth and Chris were there in this part of the dream, as well as Kelley and perhaps a few other Baltimorons (as she says). We entered the mall at length, found ourselves amid the roiling chaos of a large cafeteria, planning next steps, or perhaps simply planning who wanted to split up and where to meet later on. A point found only Kelley and I remaining in our seats, and we both walked away-- to realize a few minutes later that we'd forgotten our bags. Rushing back to the scene, we found our things all still there, but strewn by thieves who'd only bothered with taking the cash and cards from our wallets, and our keys (for some reason). Relived to a point that the remainders of our belongings remained, we continued on.

Later I found I'd lost track of Kelley, too-- was wandering distractedly throughout the place, unable to get my bearings, or any sense of how the layout of the place worked. Lost. And later, having suddenly caught up with Bath and Chris at what I suspected was quite the other end of the place, I told them what had happened, and I think I then lost track of them again somehow.

Then a moment that felt like waking in the middle of wakefulness- to realize I had lost my possessions, again! No coat, no bag, no wallet- all hand-held items had gone, and me with no memory of how this second lapse had occurred. Quiet breathless panic, as I commenced to run throughout the massive mall, trying to retrace steps, looking everywhere in vain.

There was more to the story, and eventually (after a cousin of mine magically appeared and magnanimously hijacked the PA system to make an announcement of reward for the wallet), I did get at least my wallet back, for which I was grateful. But still at such a loss! My sketchbook, my coat, my bag- where was the rest of it all? I didn't want to appear ungrateful, but wished that the cousin had listened more carefully before making his announcement; had included other items in the list. After all, now the wallet was empty of cards and cash, little remained in it save useless things like a Key Food card and some receipts...

There was much more, but little in memory remains.

"The Listeners"

That was a phrase randomly chosen from a book: it was a title, in fact. Its influence led to some off-the-cuff writing followed by a painted drawing, both of which now share the title.

Now I am mid-stream on a similar painted drawing, except I haven't begun the painting part yet.

electrofork on etsy!

edinburgh

I'm happy that it's raining today.

I've been thinking about cities, about old cities; how they can feel (in some areas, certain streets) more like formations than something man-made. Edinburgh: those massive brown blocks everything is made of-- buildings that look as though they sprung from bedrock to show off, make us feel small, and in awe. Buildings whose foundations appear unshakable and indestructible (but nothing is), and as ancient as the dormant volcano just outside the city. Massive structures whose density is palpable as you look upon them, and whose stone turns streaked with dark in the rain. Impenetrable but somehow warm, and makes you want to touch it, that stone. It's history that stuck around; it's evidence.

But I'm romanticizing.

Edinburgh has other reasons, too, to be in my thoughts today. One: I was informed that one of my photographs of said city has been shortlisted for inclusion in the Schmap Edinburgh Guide. Not sure how they found my photo, but it was a nice surprise. Two: Today is October 11th, and it has been two years since a rainy night in Edinburgh on which Anders and I met up with fellow Brooklynite, Ben. It was not only a really fun evening, but also the beginning of something totally unexpected, unlooked-for.

I read this line in Oil Notes, by Rick Bass, today: "Falling in love can be a cure sometimes, but it can only be a shot in the arm if you don't need it."

change

Autumn can be a time of restlessness, too.

Things change, transform. Some things die. The threat of dormancy looms. The urge for hibernation, for hiding, can come on strong and unexpected. It is a time for vigilance! One must be ready for anything-- strong and easy-breezy; carefree and confident.

It is never a good time to let things sneak up on you, but least of all at this shifting, unpredictable time of year. Don't get me wrong; it can be a wonderful thing to be blind-sided now and again, but one must know where one's weaknesses lie. One must be prepared to shift as nimbly as the wind does on fall evenings, as swiftly as firelight.

Artist as Traveler

the corner with my works on canvas, Object Image Gallery

Saturday was the opening reception for the Artist as Traveler, a group show in which I participated with four other artists, held at the Object Image Gallery on 5th Avenue here in Brooklyn. It was a wonderful turnout and I want to thank everyone for supporting! And thanks to Bob, the owner and fellow artist, for inviting me to show my work.

dark and rain.

I've had to turn on a light at noon! And outside it's now raining, not a little.
I'm due to pick up some packages from Mailboxes on Fifth-- including frames from Beth in Santa Fe, with which I will kit out the paintings for next Saturday's show.
I ought to have gone and got them earlier, but I had no idea rain was imminent.

Last night and this morning I have been doing digital prints of photographs, also for the show at Object Image; this invariably involves a fair amount of tweaking, re-printing.

spam:

"We make things that make meat work."

Now that's funny.

dream:

In which my family were living back in the house at San Doris Circle, which was much changed.

My mother had a militant and energetic little black dog of a breed called a Fire Terrier, as well as two huskies-- the inimitable Bo (free of leg problems in the dream) and an elderly Chinook. Add to this small menagerie the following:
A rooster, who lived in the house in a wire cage that sat on whatever surface was near to the people (a social bird, with a large black beak that was most un-chicken-like). This handsome fowl was ostensibly quite friendly, but threatened to bite me whenever i got close.
Another bird- perhaps a a parrot or macaw of some sort, whose personality I didn't get a chance to fathom.
I can't recall what else, but I know there were others...

Jon was there, as well as Flip. I believe Jon lived there, but Flip and his family just spent a lot of time there. I was merely visiting, and to the majority of animals, an interloper.

There were a number of staircases in the house, all of which were curving, steep and incredibly difficult to navigate. The main stair led up to the bedrooms, and appeared to have two sections which looked at odds with one another; poorly designed for use, although it made an interesting visual. The portion that gave an impression of having been added on hurriedly bent away toward the master bedroom. There was also a servants' stair, which went from the semi-below ground garage up into the kitchen, and was quite curving after the fashion of a spiral staircase, but larger, and I never recalled that being in the house before. (Indeed, the garage had never been remotely sunken before!) Next to this garage-room was a sort of alleyway, also with stairs, and to the right was a door through which to get to the garage, and on the left another door- looking into a kitchen. (At first I took this to be some second kitchen- perhaps lately of use for the servants of the spiral stair-- but then I saw some strangers in it and realized it belonged to the house next door.).

I'd been following my mother up this stair-alley and we came out upon a vast backyard, where a party seemed about to begin; people here and there and it was a lovely sunny day. She told me to walk around and see the front yard-- see what they'd done to it. I was just in awe the whole time because most of it was very different and much larger than I'd remembered it (and completely different, of course, to what the house was like in reality)-- the decor was of such and eclectic style-- combinations of brightly colored modern exaggerations of victorian pieces and patterns mingled with kitschy fifties elements and some really wonderful chintz. Unbelievable, but somehow very homey and comfortable too. There were strange toys on the floor- like blocks that were also little army tanks, and they made a sound like industry or monsters.

other news

Hoover died last evening. During my nap I think.
I had got accustomed to him, as had Pi, I think; at some point I began thinking of him as Pi's monster, like he was Pi's pet or something. He seemed fine when I got home, but later on when I peered into the tank looking for him ("Where's your monster, Pi?"), I saw that he was upside-down.
Dead.
Once again, the Pi stands quite alone.

catching up

Since last Wednesday, I have been working each day in an office in Manhattan.; I'm covering for a friend and colleague, who took the time off for vacation. It has been a good exercise for me (and has reacquainted me with the reasons I have stuck with freelancing in spite of its drawbacks). The work at the office has been steady, but not overwhelming, and the people who work there are all quite agreeable and friendly, so why do I feel utterly worn-out by the time I've taken the subway back to Brooklyn and walked home? I'm not sure, but I do have a renewed empathy for all who do this routinely. I keep finding myself pushing back things on my to-do list until Thursday, when my friend for whom I'm covering will be back in the office, and I will once again have an entire day in which to tackle "life things". :: sigh ::

* * * *

Lots of bike riding of late! Ben and I biked to some friends' BBQ in the South Slope on Thursday night. We did some afternoon bike-riding over and around Red Hook on Saturday afternoon. Sunday we were out from 1:00 until 10:30 at night! Not all biking, of course, though. We tooled around from place to place- things in between involved watching an hour or so of the Mets game, a game of bowling at Melody Lanes, a ride through Sunset Park, checking out a new wine bar, and finally biking over to Smith Street where we sat outside for a late dinner at Patois. Wheels beneath one shrink the borough greatly, putting much more within reach at speed.

Announcements:
Finally I have dates for the openings of both group shows in which I'll have artwork:

Saturday 29 September
Object Image Gallery
(time to be announced)

Friday 05 October
MCCNY Gallery
(time to be announced)

"macchiato"

Having been driven to a Starbucks™ on account of my dozing off while reading in the park, I wondered for the three hundred and twelfth time what the hell a macchiato was. I am happy to find that it is of legitimate origin via Italian baristas (baristi?), and not some nonsense invented by the McCoffee chain. Whew!

Now that's taken care of, on to other topics.

August is nothing more than a wisp of memory now, it seems, the leisurely day of Labor having passed and September already teething, but in these recent times of Global Warming we do seem to enjoy what used to be called Indian Summer, back in less politically correct times. I know I've been enjoying them. it certainly makes up for the dour and long, wet springtimes that seem to preceed them...

Rambling-- so many words and so little said!

Tara Lynne and I rode our trusty wheeled steeds again to the Isla del Coney on Tuesday. A different route- McDonald Avenue, of elevated train tracks, double parking, mechanized shadows and angles unexpected. A zigzagging whir of helmets and red metal fleck gleaming and disappearing into shadow alternately as trains passed over our heads and traffic kept us guessing... A hot, still day and us riding fast, as we'd lost time and got a late start-- by the time we reached the boardwalk it was time to swim, and we didn't even bother with finding a stair to the beach, just climbed through the fence and raced to the ocean.

Riding bikes in this kind of atmosphere, and for such a purpose as "emergency swimming" (as T.L. put it), makes me feel very much like a kid again.

a funeral by the sea

Tara Lynne and I buried Trés deep in the sands of Coney Island yesterday.

We rode our bikes out to the seaside, by way of Bedford Avenue, lined with so many large old houses, with proper yards and driveways-- "real" houses. The day was balmy and pleasant with sun and breezes, and it was a good ride. On the ride back darkness came quickly as soon as we got away from the shore.

We played Nines with a deck from Rehoboth Beach, sitting at a table in front of Ruby's. We wondered whether Ruby's will survive the impending re-development of Coney. The 6 Spades card fluttered from the table at one point, and slipped easily between decking boards, lost forever! So we altered a Joker to take its place, and made up special rules about it.

tuesday

Tres has left these shores.
Pi is alone again.

trouble

I am simply having a devil of a time taking care of the behemoth fishes these days. Tres somehow managed to injure himself over the weekend; apparently in the wee hours of the night. At feeding time Sunday morning, I noticed he was lying in a corner on the bottom and didn't immediately swim up for food (always a bad sign). He has a cut on his lip, and has mostly been lying on his side since, occasionally getting up and swimming around normally, but with struggle.

He has often exhibited signs of what I can only associate with epileptic seizures, if those are possible in a fish-- wherein one moment he is swimming along, quite in control, and the next he is overcome by a twitching and shaking, often leading him to collide with the sides or bottom of the tank. My assumption, as he shows no outward signs of illness, is that he must've had a bad one, and has got himself very bruised up as a result. I added a tonic for wounds to their tank water, but I think there may be nothing else I can do but allow him to rest. Nothing else I can think of. Pi is perfectly healthy (if a little freaked out), so it's definitely not the water.

I am feeling discouraged. Between my summer-long fight with cloudy water, and now this, I really don't know what to do.

s p a m

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missing

Daydreams of the spires of Prague
and other old world cities;
Red rooftops;
Street lamps with foreign shapes.
Unfamiliar syllables and
sinistra in the sottopassaggio!
Winding streets that lead somewhere
I've never been.
I'm missing Europe, and autumn will not likely send a return ticket this year.

- - -

Everyone I know seems to be coming to new terms with adulthood lately,
or the dawning of new phases.

We all miss a summer cottage,
or aspects thereof.

- - -

Pi responds fluidly to change,
his movements exercises in poetic efficiency:
to move is to breathe,
so he never stops moving.

- - -

There are portraits of handsome horses at the flickr page.

Same day, later.

Just been skimming through the past. (Yes! I have realized, as a result of this experiment of "blog", that the aspect of it which keeps me at it is this: time travel. I can skim a sliver of the past- thoughts, happenings, life-changes: all are here in one place for me to reflect upon. In five minutes I can see where I was last summer; read about how I was feeling- what was present, missing. It's quite powerful, and a useful tool in the ever-present present.)

Anyway. It just made me feel very thankful, and a happy soul. Progress, joy, love, art, accomplishments, future, friends, family. &c. (Not necessarily in that-- or any-- order) I realize over the past year there have been some mighty gaps in my record. I shall try to avoid such in future; post more often. (If anyone else out there gets something out of it all, well, that's just a bonus. btw- Michele, Happy Birthday, a wee early!)

Signing off, as I must arrive soon at Beast for my Wednesday night shift.

resurfacing

The acrid, sticky smell of new blacktop is drifting i through the front room windows, which is a very summer smell. Several things from childhood summers relate to tar, and as we all know, scent is the most direct instigator in the resurfacing of memories.

One of these things was a general, all-summer kind of occurrence, involving old men sprinkling of tar from a metal watering can over the dirt roads in the area where my family had a cottage on a small lake. The roads would otherwise get exceedingly dusty in the dry days of sun; tar was a way of minimizing the great choking clouds of dust.

The other was a singular incident which took place in Niagara Falls (where my family would go once every summer for a day trip, generally leaving from the same cottage, as we spent the whole of each summer there for years). Walking along a sidewalk on the Canadian side, past some construction going on up above, my brother suddenly yelled, "Hot tar!". Several gobs had landed on both he and I, though I didn't feel it as hot, as it had only fallen on my sweater, which was unhappily ruined. It is still an anecdote that comes up from time to time, as my brother's outburst had initially sounded like gibberish, and my parents had no idea what he was yelling about!

This past Saturday, Ben and I went up to the River house of his sister again. We tubed along its length in the mid afternoon, and it was delightful, relaxing. This time I did remember to bring my camera upstate (though I wish I could have brought it on our trip downriver). Here's one of the river...



(More photos are at the flickr page, link in the column at top right...)

occupation

Last night (or this morning) another dream of being amidst a war-torn, occupied country. Germany again? And again, the switching of Point of view from being in it to being an observer; at times it was a movie made after the fact and in the movie (based on the dream version of history) the Nazis had occupied most of Europe until 1968. Little in the dream bore resemblance to anything real, of course. I don't even know if the oppressors were Nazis; I recall no swastikas nor word of camps. It was a rotting and dangerous mess in many places where I found myself, though. People in hiding, starving, living amid ruins and rotten animals' skeletal corpses.

mmmmm plastic.

There appears to be a swirling mass of plastic debris in the Pacific ocean that is TWICE the size of TEXAS; a very high price for an unnecessary convenience. This article on Salon gives a brief overview, and also points out s few new laws designed to discourage usage. It is a simple thing to bring your own bag, but what about those times when you find yourself at a store unexpectedly? One answer is this black mesh bag which compresses down to a pocket-sized wad when empty, meaning it can be kept on-hand in a backpack, purse, briefcase or glove compartment, so you won't be caught bag-less.

That comes off like an advertisement, but damn! Doesn't everyone hate plastic bags? They really are unnecessary.

the aural backlash, and lost photographs

speaking of dreamlike images taken with a holga...

As I mentioned, I awoke (awakened? the usage of words of or relating to waking are enigmatic to me; perhaps to most...) with a head cold; not too bad, mild congestion and that space-brain sensation. So I took good care of myself all week so far. Yesterday even had a walk to the park, sat in the shade for awhile. By last evening I was feeing almost 100%. I went to Beast for my 8:00 helper-monkey shift behind the bar. Admittedly, towards the end of my shift I had a couple of drinks, but also a lot of water. As time to go home approached, I could feel my left ear beginning to plug! Acchhh! This has happened to me before, particularly in the middle of or at the end of being sickly. It is a most disconcerting experience; one loses sense of volume, depth, even balance to a small extent. It's a feeling I have come to loathe and fear.

This morning I woke up for the first time at 8:30: ear(s) ringing, painful-- troubling! I decided there was nothing for it in the immediate, so went back to sleep.

Having hit the "snooze" button more times than ever in history, I had many many dreams. One of them stands out. I was in a house, with some family members and others. The whole dream had the tone and softness of a super 8 reel (color film; flickering shadows and nothing sharp-edged; quite beautiful, if sad-looking) The only portion I recall clearly now was an incident involving a camera. I had a camera with me; it was one I'd not used in ages, and appeared to be a medium-format Holga (that is to say, larger by quite a bit than an actual Holga; as if it shot on a roll of film that made 4x6 negs). I was trying to take some photos with it, and kept seeing things that weren't -but that had once been- through the viewfinder. It was not nearly as disturbing in the dream as it should have been; I continually made adjustments, perhaps thinking it was a play of light, or my imagination.

Then all at once, a large photographic print came slipping through one of the cracks in the approximate-at-best engineering of the camera body-- it was a copy of some photograph I had taken years before with the camera! At length, having absolutely no luck finding anything of the moment in the (admittedly non-SLR) viewfinder, I opened the camera body. Inside were crammed, somehow, a slew of these ghost-prints from long ago times! Photos of Buck, photos of my mother and grandmother, photos of people dressed up, people younger, photos of friends I'd not seen in years, photos of abstractions and textures that were very beautiful and sad, all bearing that soft brownish twinge of age and neglect. It was phenomenal- a sunken treasure recovered! Just how they came to be in there I could not fathom nor explain (but, gift horse and all that). I wanted to go through them all, slowly, and recall each day or moment, but soon they were being passed around and gawked at by the others who were in the room, which was interesting, as I heard exclamations and recollections, the "other" perspectives of others in this way added to my own slantwise ones (to which I always attribute the feeling of wistfulness; sadness always sharing some of beauty's qualities in the mind of a romantic)...

All elliptical drifting aside, it was a good dream and I wish I could remember the rest of it, but more than anything I'd like to have those lost photographs (none of which had ever actually existed. they were, after all, dream images.) Still. I'd like to have a chance to look at them more closely, any way.

(whoa- way to segue and digress!)
Point being, my ear is no longer ringing, and after sleeping away the whole morning, I feel a bit better, but still one ear is plugged and a little painful and I no longer feel nearly 100%. Feeling poorly, working through it.

the Monday "ugh"

Well, the very full weekend has taken a toll- I awakened this morning to a Midsummer's head cold! I could feel it making its languorous approach last evening, and was relieved to find I still had some Airborne™ left from winter, but it wasn't quite enough. Morning arrived with congestion and a headache. I hope Ben is faring better!

In other news, I have finally been drawing again-- many sketches in the new book last week, some of which are posted at my Flickr™ page (see links on this page).

A very full weekend indeed.

Friday night: dinner and drinks with some friends we hadn't seen in awhile. Saturday: a delightful bike ride through Gowanus and into Red Hook, where we had brunch, then watched the Mets lose to Chicago. Dinner at Anders that night, then a screening of "The Ghosts of Flatbush", which had some really phenomenal old footage. Today, we woke early and went into Times Square to get in line at TKTS to buy half-price matinée seats for "Frost/Nixon", which was very good. In between the getting of the tickets and the matinée, we walked to MoMA to see the Richard Serra works- the new ones are amazing. Unbelievable, really. Following that, grabbed some lunch to go at Whole Foods and sat in Central Park til it was time to head to the theater.
We'd been up late last night, so waking at 8:15 to go wait in line was a little difficult, but worth it.

Now: Tired.

the arrival of heat

Just in time to coincide with August. Perhaps brought on by the two full moons of July.

Electrofork is busy once again. Many design projects in progress and several about to begin. Also preparing for two group shows which will take place in September, but whose exact dates I have yet to learn. Thinking that the show in Chelsea will be more about photos and prints than paintings, but there is time yet to decide for certain (though not much!)

:: sighs ::

I have been reminded lately of Regina Spektor's lyrics from "Somedays".
(Somedays aren't yours at all,
They come and go
As if they're someone else's days)

Time for that last bit of coffee left in the pot.

holycrap

You leave the house empty for less than 24 hours, and the next thing you know a giant "waterbug"-roach nastiness is having the nerve to walk across your damn brand-clean desk that you just decontaminated days earlier with isopropyl alcohol (happy side effect of busily cleaning your keyboard at long last)... UGH. smash!
doom for bug.

is it thursday again?

I won't discuss time again.

I will mention, briefly, that my battle with the dreaded aquarium bacteria is ongoing, but they are decidedly on the losing side; their annihilation is imminent. The lugging of 5 gallon buckets has been good for my arms, at least, and Pi and Tres seem to love all the attention and excitement.

I have been working as Tara Lynne's helper-monkey (assistant bartender) at Beast on Wednesday nights. I have also been working in the big town across the river since Friday; some on-site freelance at the work place of an old friend and college classmate. Speaking of which, I must depart!

166. Return

This, Blogger™ tells me, shall be my 166th post.

It is a cruel thing, returning to a city on the edge of a heat wave, having spent the fullness of a week beneath fairer skies and witness to the Atlantic's infinite recitation upon the shore of a barrier island. Fire, was the island. (Fair Harbor to be specific.) What a singular place; so narrow- a wisp of a landmass (the word mass being used exceedingly loosely, here).

Completed The Alienist (Caleb Carr); also read The Stargazey (Martha Grimes), which I left at the house for future fans of the Richard Jury series; and finally, The Children of Hurin (Tolkien)-- the darkest of the lot by far, as I realize now all of my beach reading selections were stacked with death!

Some images: (more will appear on Flickr™ at some point)
Oh how I love being near to water in the summer. A balm to mind and body. (Being away from this computing machine also helps.)


looking east from our front deck, just before dawn


the sunken forest


sunset on the bay side, taken through a sunglass lens for pinkness!

more amsterdam...

the continuation of glazing

Here shows the ongoing work with the awnings image! This one is clickable, so to provide a larger view as well...

h20

after second major water change

Thursday came and instead of their water being clear, it was thoroughly cloudy again, and Tres was showing signs of "brown blood" from the overabundance of bacteria and their attendant nitrates. Aigghh!!! So, Friday morning I had to change out a great deal of the water again, and more salt. (This time I dissolved the salt first). The photo above shows them later, in the evening after the change-out. Sullen, just lurking on the bottom, mirrored in their misery. I was really worried that it would continually get worse. I removed the plastic plants, salted and scrubbed them, but decided to leave them out for now. I also added opaque black foil to the sides of the tank to prevent sunlight coming in as much as possible.


much better!

However! Saturday morning arrived with still-clear (95% clear anyway) and happy fishes! Brown blood gone! Begging for food and swimming around like freaks! Still are today. They won't even slow down long enough for a clear photo. *whew!* Probably one more (smaller) water change-out today, to keep them safe from evil bacteria.

underpainting

Above is a sneak peak at the new canvas in progress; it's quite a bit larger than the other Amsterdam pieces (30" x 40"), and it takes considerably longer to even get down washes for a base. This is just a faint beginning. I haven't worked on a canvas this size since the grotesques, and- damn!- that was several years ago. This initial phase of underpainting was completed last evening, amid other pursuits; Kim was over for an art night, and we worked on ideas for her web site as well.

And, below, a nice little portrait of Nancy. She came here to stay while TL and Deb were out west on vacation. She was a delightful house guest, and it was nice to have someone to talk to in the kitchen! I'd gotten rather used to her being there, and then *poof* she was gone again. That little dragon ate a lot of crickets.


Nancy, my house guest from earlier this month

In other news (a post script) the fishes' water has nearly all cleared up, after doing serious water replacement twice in as many days. I also learned (after further investigation) that (1) some types of bacteria overload can be bad, and (2) I have been severely remiss in salt reaplcement for several months! Luckily, salt is one of the treatments for bacteria, so two birds and all that. Both fishes are looking very happy at the moment-- even Tres, who'd been sitting glumly on the bottom of the tank for a few days. :)

heat index

They're saying today will be a scorcher. I felt it coming on last evening, and so closed off the front room and started up the AC; it has remained quite cool (though i turned it off this morning), as I haven't opened the windows to let in warmer air from without!

The past couple of weeks have been optimum sleeping weather, though- cool at night with only a window open. Between that, and my new mattress (very basic, mind you but a vast improvement over the decade-old futon mattress I'd been using), I find I've been hitting snooze a lot lately! Additionally, of late I have a seemingly bottomless well of strange dreams that are particularly active in those 10-minute chunks of sleep between the alarms. I wish I was still in the habit of writing upon wakening, as some of them have been pretty interesting (in that logic-has-no-place-here sort of way).

The fishes' water is still somewhat cloudy, as I've been (1) waiting for the Ph to drop a bit in hope that that will kill off some of the rampant bacteria, and (2) well, lazy. But the web link assured me that this bacteria is not harmful. I presume it is precisely the sort that causes ponds to go all hazy and murky in warm weather, in which case those two should feel quite at home. But, to be honest, they don't seem pleased. I will exchange a large amount of water today.

reading

It's Saturday noon, and I have been reading a friend's blog. I have read a few in the past couple of months, and I am always so impressed with people who get very personal in their writing. With details. The whole blog phenomenon is strange, and I still am not quite sure of the point (perhaps part of it is just the feeling of being connected somehow to a larger world?). But still in awe of the ones who truly share. I am just such an editor; even when I feel as though I have typed something personal, I realize later how obscure and abstract my entries are (unless about the fishes or politics). I barely allude to some of the most life-altering experiences!
But, this is a public experiment after all, and those who need to know, do.

Meantime, I am an excited geek- a new book arrived, gotten with my IgoUgo gift certificate! The Children of Hurin, another posthumously-published work by Tolkien, at long last put into cohesive form by his diligent son. I must finish current novel first, but am very much looking forward to reading this. Whoo hoo!

challenges, opportunities.

I never did expound upon that statement, begun in a previous post this day.
(technically yesterday)

The situation in which I find myself is one of both challenge and (hopefully) opportunity, as summer hits.
You see, I recently learned of [somewhat dire] financial troubles of one of my clients; a situation leaving me (and several trusted colleagues) somewhat bereft for the moment. But-- it is summer after all, and summer is the bane of so many freelancers; so I have decided to take it in stride. Decided, consciously, to not panic. I never panic! (That has proved, over the years, to be both a strength and a weakness.)

The flip side of this untimely (or timely?) development, is that it has (1) come at the exact time during which I'm finally taking my future as a "fine artist" (I shouldn't use quotes) seriously, and (2) is, bizarrely, serendipitously, allowing me to actually do so.

All that in mind, I have been using my daytime- normally working hours- to CREATE! To begin, work on, and in fact actually finish many projects, in a way I have only allowed myself to imagine heretofor.

* yay for that! *

new enterprise...

This is one of my new plans. Living in Park Slope, there certainly must be a number of residents in search of interior augmentation, but perhaps not having the time nor experience to do such things. I have had the time and opportunity to play with spaces, having lived in many apartments during my time in NY-- moreover, (and importantly) it is something I enjoy. So, we shall see what sort of response these little fliers bring. (note: I have left off the phone number, as this is a local experiment; a project that really only makes sense on a local basis. However, I am not opposed to travel-for-work! :) )

forms & structures

challenges, and opportunities.

The fishes' tank water is cloudy, and has been so for a couple of weeks now. Today it appears to be a little better, but I have yet to unravel the mystery of what's causing it.

Lately viewing:
BBC Brain Story documentary series
PBS Guns, Germs and Steel

Lately reading:
The Alientist, by Caleb Carr
The Dance of Time, by Michael Judge
A Guide to Heraldry, by Ottfried Neubecker

For a group show in Chelsea in which I will be exhibiting some small paintings, I have decided upon a series of saint Icons, after the manner of the Middle Ages (but more in the style of my Grotesques).

bleeaaaahhh!

It is never anything but disturbing to spy vermin in one's abode; it feels like an intrusion, shaves a bit of the comfort off of one's comfort zone. Sometimes, makes one's skin crawl, awakens the heebie-jeebies. Ugh! i just had an unfortunate run-in with the largest cockroach I've seen in years, save those night crawler types that you see on the street in this town. And he was lying on his back, legs akimbo, only a few inches from my stove. Bleeaarghh!

This damn bug is no less than 1.75" long of body , with another 2 or 3" of antennae. As I cautiously approached with a flat of cardboard (mistakenly presuming him to be not only prone, but also dead), the bugger's limbs started to twitch and flail (more garbled sounds of disgust from me).

Now, on a quick side note, I have two heavy boxes of mis-printed matter sitting on my kitchen table; 1000 brochures doomed only to be recycled, as I wait for the correctly-printed brochures to be sent. Their presence causes some dismay at the sheer wastefulness, and at poor service on the part of the printers (in this instance) they represent. But! getting back to the uninvited guest causing me even more dismay...

I quickly realized what I must do. I grabbed one of the boxes and swiftly dropped it on top of the wretched thing, hopefully ending its struggle, and most assuredly easing my mind that this land-lubbing crustacean would have no further explorations in my kitchen. (Though I suspected that a beast of that size might come in handy to carry out the recycling, if only it were trainable, surely it wouldn't be able to lift 8 pounds of paper off its buggy abdomen...)

Eventually, I will have to remove the box and clean up whatever carnage is beneath it. (Yet more sounds of disgust emanate). On a more positive note, however, I finally found a use for those damn brochures.

Impromptu projects

Kim came over to drop off the menu prints for Bonnie's last evening, and we wound up having a very spur of the moment art night: we got out all sorts of paper, glue, paint, you name it. Then we chose a book from the shelf (Jane Jacobs: The Death and Life of Great American Cities), chose a line of text at random; a passage regarding "Destruction", which became out point of departure,. We set a clock for about 90 minutes of time, and made some art! Below is a (rather poor) photo of the results!


two collages: mine (left) and Kim's (right)

It was really great; a reminder of how exciting process can be, and that so many ideas come not by thinking so much as by being in it. And of course, as Bob Ross taught us, "happy accidents".

another dream of war

Last night: dreams of ruthlessness in war; ancient; a battle in which no compromise was allowed and a perfectionist general lost his every soldier in an ever-widening stain which turned the ground sour and nauseating. When it was finished, he still stood, but broken and stripped of his humanity. His actions had contradicted the very ideals which had set him on his path, and he wept. Not for himself, but for the landscape of carnage; for all who had been lost on his orders, by his hubris. For the taint and the tarnish on ideals that could not be restored to bright and shining. He didn't move. In the end, all of his decisions proved senseless; the weight of emptiness all around him rooted him to the soil, still hemorrhaging slow pools of regret.

The dream woke me and it was still dead of night (and I am rarely wakened by dreams, even the nightmare kind). This one, though- the vantage point was abstract- I was learning this battle as history, yet it spread before my eyes like a living diorama in the dream, and I could smell the sourness and it hurt, and the general, who was representative of some Roman written as glorious, lost his mythological status. It felt like the stain had continued to spread right up through centuries, and I lost something as well, like the way fairy tales set you up for a fall, which is Life, and you realize in the most visceral way that death in war is always ignoble for the mere fact that it is avoidable-- the way of avoidance simply has yet to be soundly threaded from abstraction, as there's no budget for it; no economic motive.

Time.

It has been a swift spring, with tumultuous weather to match the tumults of Time; of Getting Older; of Uncertainty, Questions Needing Answers, and of Procrastination; of Plans waiting to become Plans of Action.
Well, something like that, anyway.

Yes, it's all true. Each passing year passes faster than the last. Time is patient and cunning. Time may be infinite in the abstract, but is doled out in indeterminate, finite chunks, and it can get scary if you think about it too much. It's one thing to know this as a theory, to be aware of in some vague way. But there comes a time when it begins to have weight, where one actually begins to believe it.

Okay, back to work for now. Perhaps I will revisit this at another time...

not wandering, just LOST

wandering lost

I feel utterly uninspired; that is, I have no ideas. No idea what to create- that sounds ridiculous, but it's true. I fear that all these many years of designing in front of this screen-- of having got used to working on projects for which there was a purpose, something specific to communicate-- have rendered me crippled as an artist.
Wow. That sounds very dramatic.
I am accustomed to knowing what needs to be done, then doing it. And having deadlines, set by others. In short, I've grown accustomed to creating for others' purposes. Now, when I find myself desiring so much to creeate an image for the joy of creating an image, I feel utterly at a loss. I wish to apply discipline to this matter, but there's that feeling that ART isn't something I should have to push myself to do-- a misconception, I realize, but still.

It is driving me mental.
The good news is, eventually it will break. Or I will-- either way the funk will end.
My plan is to end it on my terms.

at the edge of dusk

It's dark in the apartment right now. Had to turn on lights. It feels like doom, this hour of a winter day, when outside the sky appears bright but none of its quality seems able to leak through the panes, rendering rooms full of too many shadows. It feels too early for all this incandescent, but there you have it; light bulbs or slinking doom darkness draped from walls and hiding behind chairs.

Winter returned overnight; a slushy icing and wet stinging pellets with the wind. It'll be an indoors kind of weekend in the city. A beer and hot yoga and painting kind of weekend.

sweat! sun! wait!

SWEAT!
Bikram Yoga: also known as "hot" yoga. 90 minutes in a 100-110 degree room. 26 poses and two breathing exercises. A lot of sweating. Intense. Day two was torture. Day three was the best yet. I think they'll continually get better. Ideal is to go at least three times a week, but as Tara Lynne and I are also looking into some form of martial arts practice, I may stick with twice a week. It's pretty amazing and afte only three sessions I feel much better. A great way to start the day.

SUN!
Today when I left the yoga center the sun was shining and it was in the fifties outside- great! I'm sure there is more snow and wind in store for New York before the spring is settled in but it's so great to have days with the window open and where going outisde doesn't require adding so many layers.

WAIT!
One of the most frustrating things about working as a freelancer is the waiting to get paid for fuck's sake. It makes me cringe. I am responsible! I am an on-time payer of my own bills! But someties this becomes almost impossible due to the tardiness of checks!! Aighh! Well, I suppose the goal is to have more than enough in savings to cover. One day, I'm sure. Meantime, I just needed to vent.

march of the tiny snow

Across the street there is a large truck labeled "AllState PowerVac". I can't imagine what it might be vac-ing right now, but it is rather loud.

Overnight a gift of snow- a meagre blanket which by now lingers only on sidewalks and places where no cars go. I missed the falling of it, having gone to sleep early (midnight-thirty?) after finally finishing up the couch-wall in the living room and then enjoying a long phone call with Beth. I have updated the group of photographs of the apartment to include the new wall (that half of the front room having been conspicuously absent til now) and shall paste a new link to the collection at the end of this post.

Work of the graphic design persuasion reamins steady and ongoing. The painting of buildings and other shapes has suffered some these past two weeks, but today looks like I have some time for that. (Time, yes, but where is the discipline?!) This week I finally cut out piece of wood to make a seat for one of the two recently rescued chairs, padded and upholstered said seat, and re-upholstered the seat of that chair's twin and fellow orphan. Those small tasks and the painting of the pattern on the wall have been plaguing me for a month at least., now finished. Tax documents have been organized, catch-up work on freelance projects is well in hand. What is there now to keep me from those canvases? I always manage to find something-- not sure why. Fear, I suppose. Painting is something I am no expert at, and it's difficult to dive into something when one's an absolute beginner once again, but I have no good excuses left now!

Okay, here's that link again:
Photos of the apartment!

amsterdam.

Some notes about the trip.
part one.

Amsterdam: Always associated with debauchery such as hashish and the red light district, but those are merely two tiny aspects of this beautiful city. Streets shared almost equally by cars, bicycles, trams and peds; beautiful arched bridges over the canals every few blocks, the arches lit by rows of little white lights at night; mossy brick pavements; hand-lettered script on doors and mailboxes of private and public spaces; wires strung with streetlights which are suspended over the center of the streets; the buildings, of course! ornament windows and arms for pulleys to raise large boxes or furniture too unweildy for the steep narrow staircases built hundreds of years ago; sepia; greenery and parks everywhere- landscaped and not at all angular; cranes walking stiff-legged around ponds or landing in tall tall trees with massive nests; house boats with little roof decks and gardens at the gangplanks... The windows of many of the canal-side houses are wide and un-curtained, giving the impression that the rooms blend seamlessly with the sidewalks. What a city for wandering! Feast for the eyes.

I forgot about it!

Basically, that's what happened. This blog, I mean-- I just forgot. Not entirely, but it lost priority. There was a move, followed by time up in Rochester with family over Xmas, followed by a 2-week jaunt in Northern Europe. Amsterdam: the Netherlands, and Berlin and Munster: Germany. A brilliant trip! Nothing negative to report, despite it being a winter trip, and Ben & I both having started the trip out with head colds!

Michele, the hard work below was as per your request; thank you! I've been meaning to upload these for months, and your email set a fire under my ass. Ha! LINKS TO PHOTOS:

See some photos from the trip!

See some photos of the new apartment!