The nature of time, experiences, like flashes of color, pop, explode into life, silence, a plam tree, a warm breeze, crumbeling art deco paint jobs, paintings, friends faces, a warm nite swim.... Flying into cold and foggy New York, like a page being turned... memories covered with new nows, pushing back "thens" like the entries in this blogg, stacking on top of eachother.. Art Basel Miami is many things for many people; a time to network with community, hussle some art, make new discoveries, decompress with friends... There is a lot of information to take in, in the form of art. Perhaps too much. After a certain point it all evens out. With out the assistance of a camera to provoke memories after the fact only a few things really stick out in my mind. Iggy Pop's body -bright white and twisted. The chaos of Asume Vivid Astro Focus' performance with breakdancers, skateboarders and voguers on a skate ramp with miami booty bass music and video in the background. Doing Tarot readings all week as part of my public project, with a deck I made. Lots of stray cats. Gang Gang Dance show at the ANP quarterly release party. An amazing performance at the NADA fair which is really hard to describe because of the nature of how many elements were simultaneously active and meaningfull, plus I forget the guys name right now (insert here later). Being part of a Mark Borthwick photo shoot for Purple. Smiles and good times with friends from SF, riding bikes around, and sharing meals and laughs. Full on retarded Karaoke till 4 am in the basement at the Shelbourne Hotel for Maya Hayuk's b-day. Driving to the Florida Keys to swim with the manatees (not finding any) but finding an amazing bird sanctuary. An awesome Steven Powers exhibition in the design district. My new friend Jens' Free Spirits cafe closing party -with artists painting a van surrounded by drummers and dancers. Awesome local grouper at an Indian restraunt. Catcing up with distant relatives. Sunshine. Sunshine. Sunshine.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
ugggghh. the glass is both half full and half empty. inspiration leads to desperation. words, images contained in books open imaginary worlds. like dreams. the dust of the past, fixed as ink on page. shapes of sounds. colors that blend and form images. old books, dusty fingers, just touching them, their fragile skin leads to bruises. So we as a culture protect them, isolate them. contain them in temperature controlled bags. the sun keeps spinning. the now moment does not move. constant. here, while everything that emerges from it grows and decays and disappears. like a comet. like fire. a trail. all of us. all of this. every goal we work for that dies behind us as soon as we achieve it. grasp it. try and contain it. maintain it. trap it. us. our body. our personality. a vessel, hustling to fill it with eternity. trying to be the exception to the rule of decay and disintegration. marble busts turn from white to green, roman noses filled with moss. a history of currency transforming into legacy. the pursuit of immortality that fairy-tales reinforce, and condition the immortal mind of youth. mind compass re-set towards a path of suffering. only looking towards the unachievable. the illusion. the comet treadmill keeps spinning, set in motion by our hungry feet. my hungry feet. stop. stop the abstract illusion of the comet. stop the abstract illusion of the treadmill. stop the abstract illusion of me. these text fonts i type, crutched by electricity are already lost. lost, washed away on the beach of time. the only way I can explain their existence here is as a manifestation, an urging on by my heart. lost amongst these other hearts. looking into each one I find, like a cavernous ruby, extending forever as light and color, yet so so tiny that it could disappear at any moment. we build so much to try and cover our hearts with crowns, and robes, and capes, and wigs. covering them, weighing them down. needing other's approval to feel worth of self love. the shame of it all. the energy spent on building our modern jewels. aaahhhhhhh... it feels good to look it at it...deeply...with love..see it and come out of it...work out of it, these mental shackles we are in such the habit of placing onto ourselves. poof...they don't exist in reality, but they do exist as some collective unconscious suffering that connects us all...all burdened by culture's mental byproduct. all trying to disguise our suffering, chasing after the next jewel to stick on our crown that remains here and turns to dust shortly after we do...how does one choose to spend one's life? what are the real priorities? are priorities false goals? I am comforted by the image of a beach of a billion ruby sand, and the waves of life just lap up against us gently and violently, and what can we really do about it other than feel it? be aware of it, as it changes. this timeless cycle. this moment.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Cleaning up my grandfather's archives...so many old photo magazines...gonna call some artist friends over (Diego and JoJo, Jason, Eli, Leif and Tooya, and my mom) for some creative group time...just like all those fun projects we would do at Triple Base in SF...good times...