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!
05 November 2007
31 October 2007
hmmmm
Bike ride to and through the park this afternoon, but the autumn colors there are scant as well.
30 October 2007
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...)
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...)
26 October 2007
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.
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.
23 October 2007
"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.
Now I am mid-stream on a similar painted drawing, except I haven't begun the painting part yet.
16 October 2007
11 October 2007
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."
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."
09 October 2007
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.
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.
01 October 2007
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.
22 September 2007
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.
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.
19 September 2007
15 September 2007
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.
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.
11 September 2007
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.
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)
* * * *
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)
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