I live a happy existence. Thank you for the effort put forth by you to make me cognitive of the fact that I am alive and fragile but unafraid to live and Love.
- alex
Today, I spent most of my time alone, in my studio. It's a harder feat to do than it sounds. It's nice feeling to know that in 12 hour time spans, you only talk to someone when needed. And then, only briefly. To the point.
I have a new phone and this phone has a better camera on it than my last one, by several... million factors. The amount of lens barreling is so completely ridiculous, but the resolution and color saturation of the photos are still quite nice.
Here's outside my window from the viewpoint of new phone:
I thought the paint jars and buildings played nicely together - as if the buildings were just an extension of the jars themselves. I really like thinking that there is so much happening outside of my window - that there's only about 8 inches of brick wall between me and the outside. A prison in reverse.
I finished gridding up a 5' by 7' canvas - again harder than it sounds. It's taken me about three days. I suspect the actual painting will take a little less than twice that time. Adequate planning = flawless execution. These grids are done in white pastel pencil. I went through about six pencils. I'm hoping the pastel will wash right off after they've served their purpose. The gridding and then numbering of all the little squares - 2296 of them. The first painting I did like this, there were 144 squares. The trippy thing is that it' ll take me about the same time to cover this painting to completion that it took for that initial painting. I guess I learned a thing or two.
This painting, being so bright and the gridding process being so monotonous will certainly lead to interesting dreams. Last night, I had one of those dreams where you feel trapped in something dark, wet and cold. Where time seemed to go absolutely nowhere as you at the same time began and finished your life in this world in an instant. Over and over. Makes my heart flip out, my eyes wobble. Makes me sweat through the sheets and let go of the person I am holding. Makes me not want to be so aware of the passage of time, but make the best of what I have. Does that make any sense? I think I glanced at the clock and it was only around 12:30 am. earlier than I've gone to sleep in months.
Beau talked to me about having a dialogue between your work and yourself. I thought the idea was beautiful and quickly set about thinking of every interaction as a dialogue between you and this outside thing.
Savouring each morsel of food, enjoying the mingling of flavors, the work involved in preparing the meal - preparing the meal itself, picking out the ingredients, growing the ingredients - all your life. The more of a dialogue you have on the food, the more the food will mean to you because your relationship with the food has changed. You've invested yourself into the food. Therefore, the food is more a part of yourself, even before you eat it - you yourself provide sustenance to yourself. It's beautiful to think of. I'm about to nuke a veggie burger and the leftover potatoes from The Incredible Edible Egg.
It's very nice to go to these lengths with other things that you may value in your life:
Relationships, making Love - making Love is a dialogue - Fucking is not... really. Fucking is as much of a dialogue as getting Taco Bell at 3:00 am. I'm not opposed to Running for the Border(tm) (usually) every now and then, but I keep myself conscience of this fact when I Fuck. Healthier to do. I like, sometimes, to talk to my partner while making Love. Tell them how I feel. Ask them how they feel. But that isn't totally what I mean by dialogue. I mean communicating without words. Or signals. Or anything interpreted on that level. Wraps up nicely what I read in Derrick Jensen's, A Language Older Than Words, and my short talk with Beau. Beau has wonderful blue eyes.
I have been accepted in an art show over at Pod/Capsule that opens this Friday. The judge was Michael Paglia of the Westword. His column featured three photographs I had taken in three separate issues. None of these photographs were of my work. I laughed to myself that if I was in a show that featured photographs, I'd get a write up by Michael. I was right. Anyways, both pieces I submitted were accepted.
One piece was twelve paintings, stacked up, making a sort of sculpture thing. It reminded me of Donald Judd's objects, so I named it an anagram of Judd's name - these paintings have been shown twice in two different ways. My secret goal is to show the paintings as many times, in as many ways as possible. The last time I showed the paintings, it took a good three hours to hang them. Some were hung on a diamond, others on the floor. It was complicated. Too complicated.
This time, it took about 5 minutes to carefully stack the paintings, and about an hour beforehand daydreaming on my bed to come up with the idea. It's lovely when interesting things happen in the border of a dream and then you wake up, to actively interpret your dream and then finally have it validated into a show for others to see. Quite lovely, indeed. I wonder what I'll dream of tonight.
I went skating for a little while. Two skateparks are not a half a mile away. One inside, one outside. Both free. I went to the outside one and had a lovely time. My right knee wasn't hurting, but it didn't quite feel correctly aligned, so I took it easy and rolled around - no pads, no b.s. - just fun. Even so, I was able to land my hardest tricks. Kickflips. 360 flips. Backside airs. Boardslides on the railing. Even a small 5-0. It's nice... it's nice when you don't have to necessary try at something. You just think, your body reacts and beautiful things happen. I skated the entire perimeter of the park, hitting this and that. Everything came together. I haven't skated in weeks. I can't do anything but smile. The tricks I didn't land were the most delightful. I kept thinking of how silly I must have looked not making the trick. I would interpret what I must have looked like again and again after not making the trick. It's like thinking of what you must look like reaching an orgasm.
I'll need to have Penelope photograph those backside airs. They're getting high. Penelope -
Penelope deserves much from me - but I want what I give her to be... to be a dialogue that doesn't involve just words... that flows without seeming to need effort (although the amount of energy it really takes... who knows?), that... that in the end makes her and I smile. That just comes out of me, that leaves both of us breathless and almost enlightened and strong. Like a very old tree. I don't know... Love Love Love.
