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.