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Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
rooms with no view
"You need a room with no view so imagination can meet memory in the dark." Annie Dillard
Does anyone else compose or design while doing repetitive physical tasks?
I had to do a lot of errands yesterday and while I was the driving familiar neighborhood roads I spun myself the ground work for a new short story. Once the tasks were completed, I went to the Aquatic Center at Bethesda Park not five minutes from home and swam in the gigantic indoor heated pool for 45 minutes.
My stroke closely resembles a manatee in search of the dessert cart but it still taxes me if I keep at it. After a lap or two, seventy five meters worth each way, I stop, hang on the tile lip and stretch this and that before I turn and head back to the distant shore. A few times I put on the steam and swam like I was hearing the Jaws theme music, impressing myself with the pace I was making. The lithe, young lifeguard piped up "Best lap this morning!"- poor thing, she must be bored to tears. Did I mention that I have the entire pool to myself?It seems like the best kept secret in the county. No one else showed up before noon.
Back and forth, over and over, while other chapters of the story began to make themselves known. I tried to stay away from sharp details, descriptions or feelings, as these can slip frustratingly away with no pen and paper on hand to take notes (note to self - devote that new blank notebook to travel, even poolside) but it was a productive swim.
No visual expressions are coming from this activity so far. It's a pretty mundane setting even with one entire wall of glass looking out into the Georgia piney weeds and winter sky. That activity seems to live in a different place in my head but now that I think about it there is a huge wall on one end that begs for a mural...
Does anyone else compose or design while doing repetitive physical tasks?
I had to do a lot of errands yesterday and while I was the driving familiar neighborhood roads I spun myself the ground work for a new short story. Once the tasks were completed, I went to the Aquatic Center at Bethesda Park not five minutes from home and swam in the gigantic indoor heated pool for 45 minutes.
My stroke closely resembles a manatee in search of the dessert cart but it still taxes me if I keep at it. After a lap or two, seventy five meters worth each way, I stop, hang on the tile lip and stretch this and that before I turn and head back to the distant shore. A few times I put on the steam and swam like I was hearing the Jaws theme music, impressing myself with the pace I was making. The lithe, young lifeguard piped up "Best lap this morning!"- poor thing, she must be bored to tears. Did I mention that I have the entire pool to myself?It seems like the best kept secret in the county. No one else showed up before noon.
Back and forth, over and over, while other chapters of the story began to make themselves known. I tried to stay away from sharp details, descriptions or feelings, as these can slip frustratingly away with no pen and paper on hand to take notes (note to self - devote that new blank notebook to travel, even poolside) but it was a productive swim.
No visual expressions are coming from this activity so far. It's a pretty mundane setting even with one entire wall of glass looking out into the Georgia piney weeds and winter sky. That activity seems to live in a different place in my head but now that I think about it there is a huge wall on one end that begs for a mural...
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Thursday, December 29, 2011
scale
It's been nice to pick up the needle and get back to work on this piece but I constantly have to step back and remind myself to keep the scale of each element in keeping with the overall piece.
It's very easy to get myopic. Already there are two that I have over worked early on and will probably have to pick out.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Helen Frankenthaler died in the night.
She was one of the (many) reasons that I do what I do.
When I was in art school in NY, I was once present when she was marshaling an exhibition of many enormous canvases, her work, giving orders to a group of assistants ..what went where, etc. It was quite overwhelming and I remember being terrified that my presence would be noticed. I felt like a spy in the camp.
Monday, December 26, 2011
nothing new
so here's something old.
"night wings"from 2005..early work with hand dyed and painted vintage damask, layered and machine stitched, 18"x24", give or take and I'm not exactly sure where it is. That will be a mission for the morning.
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