shadow drawing
sidewalk drawing
faery composition 2
wabi sabi 29
construction collage
cutting mat
gasline
peacock floor
baby chalk
faery composition
stair paint
planter
wabi sabi elsewhere 3, Denver 2.2
alley glitter
dumpster wall
crack composition
shovels past
another Argo
wabi sabi elsewhere 2, Denver 2.1
above brunch, denver
prior postings
noodle shop bark
pot painting
incidental composition: makeshift doorstops
sidewalk, Highlands
alley door
wabi sabi 28
approaching the equinox, light low. the table, home
the little house, intruders, the park, home
not home exactly, but very close, a vacant late morning, denver
the parking lot at Argonaut's, denver
bagels nearby, home
a parking garage, the hospital, home
wabi sabi 27
once you are primed to see star atlases, and reflect on the cosmos in the mundane, constellations wink on every. where.
wabi sabi 26 (jungle plants under great plains glass)
the botanic gardens.
some friction and resistance where two climates rub. decay sifting over fecundity, rot blooming beautifully across flesh, air and light singeing hungering leaves. fodder all around.
wabi sabi elsewhere
here and there, denver
studio snippets
further to thoughts about constructing a new architecture of mythology, some experiments with substance, tropes and motifs. small things being born and leaving shells and nest twigs behind..
wabi sabi 25
a door, publik, salt lake
a plaque once? maybe, salt lake
parts of pangea, a parking lot, salt lake
tiny swab forest, a parking lot, salt lake
another play composition, another parking lot, salt lake
wabi sabi 24
the compositions of play. The playground, Salt Lake.
wabi sabi 23
the omens and oracles channeled by small hands in chalk. (And a lovely stain). Lindsay Gardens, the playground, Salt Lake.
sighting 0.01
the torchbearer, the cupbearer, the oracle and the earning beacons. Really could use some help orienting to All This.
wabi sabi 22
Some star sightings...
a galaxy, joven tempranillo
more stars, old mortarwork, Saltgrass studio
nebula in sheetrock, construction site
Eleni practicing with her right hand, the table, the porch, Home.
on myth
we know that myth is a compass for humanity. oral traditions prize myth for its ability to impart morals, direction, values. not only do we learn about who we are and where we come from through myth (read: fables, allegories, adages) but we learn also about what is important to us, and to our community (hero epics, creation stories, cautionary tales).
historically myths were told and retold, relied upon and recast in each generation. it worries me that we are not re-weaving myth to reflect contemporary culture. in a still sea we are floating, unmoored, unable to use the stars, the winds, the currents, to get us home- or to help us escape.
where, for example, is the traditional wisdom about hate and bigotry? who is sitting us on their vast and comforting laps to remind us to imbibe kindness? to feed on generosity? to push the edges of our own thirst while slaking the thirsts of others? not our leaders, not those we trust to represent us..
who is grabbing our shirttails and holding us still, priming us to hear the ways the trees speak? who is demanding we recite, from rote memory, the lineages of the forest spirits? or the prized commodities of sandstorms, rasping creekbeds, spreading twilight or tidepools?
these days in my work i want to work through this, to begin to assemble a genealogy of new heroes, new stories, new morals and new reminders. i want to rekindle in the human experience the value of noticing, of assigning personal meaning- i want to encourage a loosening of that deathgrip we have on needing facts, needing constant contact, needing continual reinforcement that we are enough from Others, Elsewhere.
true, it may not be realistic to step back completely from our current reality - it is Nearestby. but maybe by adding in something different - something more intuitive, something softer, something that affirms our connection to the nonhuman world simply by leaning into the analog spirit realm - we might experience some relief from fear, from loneliness, from that incessant high pitch drone of electricity dragging always all around us.
some architectural plans to follow, some flow charts and family trees, some New Constellations for Navigation. any nudge in a more personal direction is nourishing. i promise.
fragments i
often ideas and words leap momentarily into being and threaten to dissolve like firsthing dreams in the morning. i try to trap these in the reminders section of my phone, and the resulting fragments are often hilarious: disjointed and unapologetic. sometimes they are mis-dictated or autocorrected phrases that phone or fingers get just slightly wrong. these can be too beautiful to throw away, but they don't feel genuinely to belong to me.
i. drawing behind you in a mirror
ii. staples on telephone poles, field and maroon plants, two shades of gold/naples
iii. peach tan brown maroon red navy (maybe: a hypothetical palette)
iv. if you drew yourself surrounded by the tastes you like best, what words would they be? (Wilson? Berridge?)
v. rothko, gottlieb, newman, primitivism, charles olson, bm college (black mountain?), sumerian history fragments, pausanias on greece, leo frobenius on african rock paintings, fenellosa on japan, glyphomania, ben shahn palimpsest style, kine, rauschenberg, gorky, baziotes, roberto matta, motherwell, fountain pens. (in a book, i think, on Twombly).
vi. "scribble as the means of inventing new forms. like another way of drawing, (Breton)...29." rhythm...shaping of crude, unformed and moving matter." (as above)
vii. tonight will be the darkest night in 500 years, tonight will not be the darkest night in 400 years.
viii. cheerios a butter face cream molasses brown (a misdictated grocery list)
ix. "their body is the ground" profundity, but not mine, citation missing
x. reaching redly upwards (subsequently used for an exhibition title, see CV)
xi. peter, levine, tiger, voice
xii. the hanging shadows of death
xiii. rabbits, secrets, crimes
xiv. terroir of beer, herbs of place
xv. fennel, leak, lemontoothbrush, mushroom adapt (misdictated)
xvi. big man the lantern, little man the tallow light (arundhati roy)
xvii. i love her to the flick of some crate
WABI SABI 21
these days abundance abounds. fullness of light, the attitudes of growing things, unfurled and peacefully reaching. this is the time of year when the earth's tilt alerts me to the sentience of the wakeful world, when the grass beneath me vibrates and hums like the warm flank of some vast vegetal creature.
wabi sabi 20
avalanches past, timpanogos
some termite sentinels, trooping
again, rubbish.
rubbish, still.
rubbish, generally.
WABI SABI 19
some kinds of countrymen, downtown SLC
downs road, great barrington, ma
who, how, downtown slc
in passing, main street, great barrington, ma
WABI SABI 18
a tiny rainstorm, wind, the curb.
chalk season opens, anywhere, home.