The Other Puddle:
poetic exercises on the grammar of nostalgia
the decay of linearity
a tale of woolgathering
a presentation of past musings
a reconciliation with lacunas lost in delivery
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
Rennovations begin today
almost done with the apron that I'm sewing together fr Alexander. Velcro and everything. Makes me really appreciate the logic and simple aesthetic of the two strings as mounting, tying technology-- a very flexible innovation.
Next, I want to turn my house into a multi-purpose creative labs institution.
This will entail a revamping of its resources and specializing of spaces.
For instance, The office will now be the video-editing laboratory and image upload room.
the parlor will now be the music recording studio--it has the best acoustics.
the main room (currently the all-purpose studio) will now be the sewing quarters for textile production and specialty wallet making-- from recycled book jackets donated from the library where I used to work. This space shall also serve as a studio for various other media including painting, drawing, printmaking and sculptural endeavors.
The game room/ spare bedroom shall herein become the center for creative thought production.--The walls lined with many sources of inspiration, and a comfortable seat in the middle. The record player that we bought for a song that has its speakers blown shall serve as a silent music player.
The kitchen will maintain its function as culinary experimentation facility.
The bedroom will remain the center of dream production and movie viewing.
Both bathrooms will continue to serve as regulatory health and heigene and resource spaces.
The yards have not been designated a particular role yet nor has the cobwebbed garage. I am still working on these details.
Next, I want to turn my house into a multi-purpose creative labs institution.
This will entail a revamping of its resources and specializing of spaces.
For instance, The office will now be the video-editing laboratory and image upload room.
the parlor will now be the music recording studio--it has the best acoustics.
the main room (currently the all-purpose studio) will now be the sewing quarters for textile production and specialty wallet making-- from recycled book jackets donated from the library where I used to work. This space shall also serve as a studio for various other media including painting, drawing, printmaking and sculptural endeavors.
The game room/ spare bedroom shall herein become the center for creative thought production.--The walls lined with many sources of inspiration, and a comfortable seat in the middle. The record player that we bought for a song that has its speakers blown shall serve as a silent music player.
The kitchen will maintain its function as culinary experimentation facility.
The bedroom will remain the center of dream production and movie viewing.
Both bathrooms will continue to serve as regulatory health and heigene and resource spaces.
The yards have not been designated a particular role yet nor has the cobwebbed garage. I am still working on these details.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
more things of import
song of Susannah
sewing on drawings. printing from sewings sewing things together drawing with sewing machine sewing by hand sewing together recycled materials recycling strings sewing strings
strumming strings sewing songs songs of stories and stories that are sewn together songs that are both haikus and annals that are stories about songs that can be sewn together to make the song of Susannah
sewing on drawings. printing from sewings sewing things together drawing with sewing machine sewing by hand sewing together recycled materials recycling strings sewing strings
strumming strings sewing songs songs of stories and stories that are sewn together songs that are both haikus and annals that are stories about songs that can be sewn together to make the song of Susannah
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
things of daily import:
obsessed with my past:
video sounds songs letters journal entries
compendium.
stories from the other puddle-- sewings and songs
song of myself style to multimedia autobiographical
aprons wallets pillows
marriage invitations
Ireland bicycles
graphic novel(S)
video sounds songs letters journal entries
compendium.
stories from the other puddle-- sewings and songs
song of myself style to multimedia autobiographical
aprons wallets pillows
marriage invitations
Ireland bicycles
graphic novel(S)
she quicky realized
that the reason why she hadn't felt the inclination to post any further blogs was due to the fact that she had invited someone to view it. This at once felt wrong. Afterall she was posting all of this on the internet because she didn't want anyone reading it.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
“Then there is transportationscape: millions of square miles covered with the tinny surfaces of automobiles, the concrete bands of highways, freeways, expressways, parking lots, cloverleaves and their spaghetti-like convulsions, all tastefully trimmed with traffic signs, billboards and dangling wires of power and communication lines.”
--Victor Gruen, 1964
This series of prints entitled “Transportationscapes” is an aerial rendering of our automobile dominated geography. Printed from the transient matrices of polystyrene foam and ink jet prints—using ghost prints and paper lithography—I wanted to express in this series, my incomplete recollections of the urban landscape. The repetition of space given to roads and parking lots, which we experience on a daily basis, is something seldom paid attention to. Through this sewn-together fabric of fragmented transportationscapes, I reconstruct the city matrix I live and move within mnemonically.
--Victor Gruen, 1964
This series of prints entitled “Transportationscapes” is an aerial rendering of our automobile dominated geography. Printed from the transient matrices of polystyrene foam and ink jet prints—using ghost prints and paper lithography—I wanted to express in this series, my incomplete recollections of the urban landscape. The repetition of space given to roads and parking lots, which we experience on a daily basis, is something seldom paid attention to. Through this sewn-together fabric of fragmented transportationscapes, I reconstruct the city matrix I live and move within mnemonically.
So far today I have finished off the pot of coffee, no breakfast yet, and I have submitted a proposal to the Tucson International Airport Art Gallery in hopes to exhibit my series of prints entitled Transportationscapes. I really think that they would be great in the gallery altough they are actually aerial images of Albuquerque and they are a bit tattered looking because I never go spacers in the frame and the prints are on delicate and flimsy rice paper...
Though I still like them, and they would do good to get out of the spiderweb closet gathering odors of cooked food from the adjoined kitchen, and onto a wall somewhere... I am finding myself use the ellipse a lot in this blogging business. Interesting, I have always been a bit more discretionary with it's use, but it does seem a bit easier to let down on grammatical boundaries in such a (loose) format.
The other thing that I have done this morning is make a call in to Toshiba to get a case number so I can ship my defunct laptop out to them and hopefully bring it back from the dead. Viruses ate it alive poor thing. It was nice to have a PC in the family.
If anyone were reading these, besides myself, I'm sure they'd think that this is the utmost boring blog that they have ever made the pity of stumbling upon. Good. That is what I want. They might be thinking, jeeze, don't you have a life, all you need to complete this blog with its mundane character is a grocery list. To which I would exclaim. Great idea! I have a collection of found grociery lists to post. One moment while I fish them out of the file...
Though I still like them, and they would do good to get out of the spiderweb closet gathering odors of cooked food from the adjoined kitchen, and onto a wall somewhere... I am finding myself use the ellipse a lot in this blogging business. Interesting, I have always been a bit more discretionary with it's use, but it does seem a bit easier to let down on grammatical boundaries in such a (loose) format.
The other thing that I have done this morning is make a call in to Toshiba to get a case number so I can ship my defunct laptop out to them and hopefully bring it back from the dead. Viruses ate it alive poor thing. It was nice to have a PC in the family.
If anyone were reading these, besides myself, I'm sure they'd think that this is the utmost boring blog that they have ever made the pity of stumbling upon. Good. That is what I want. They might be thinking, jeeze, don't you have a life, all you need to complete this blog with its mundane character is a grocery list. To which I would exclaim. Great idea! I have a collection of found grociery lists to post. One moment while I fish them out of the file...
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
I really don't know why I am blogging. I have blogged before, primarily to keep up tabs with my boss and coworkers at my old job. Blogging is good for those who like to rant and rave about the current news or else those who have specific missions in mind or are conducting some kind of social, interpersonal, scientific, or religious experiment....
Yet, I suppose I could fall into that criteria. My experiment consists of the diurnal everything i come into contact with, my hypothesizing, my observations, my trials and errors, my theories, my ideas, my actions. But then again, why post it on the web?
I suppose it is this question that gets to me. I can easily answer it by telling myself that in the hegemonic direction that virtual technology is heading, it just makes sense. Yet I love the diary, the paper journal, the sketchbook. The tactile richness of writing with pen in hand and notebook leaning up against a knee, stained with the rings of coffee cups, I like tearing out pages that I regret writing in, or passing the book around for collaborative responses. I like the fact that when I am out on my bicycle in the middle of nowhere I can pull over, pull out my little book while biting the cap to my pen off, and there sitting in the gentle shade inscribe my witnessing of it all...
Yet people do carry laptops with them on long loaded bicycle trips.
It is a difficult thing to reconcile, analogous to the decision of a photographer to go digital after chemistry has made a home in his heart and the gelatin silver wrestles with the pixels in vain because after all they are not in opposition to each other but pitted against each other because of some strange hangup that the photographer has. Trying to choose one over the other, trying to rationalize, knowing fully that logic creates war.
It is a block, but the more writing the better I suppose and I dare not discriminate against the contamporary fashion of logging known as blogging... why the b I ask though? And why the internet? Why the internet?
Yet, I suppose I could fall into that criteria. My experiment consists of the diurnal everything i come into contact with, my hypothesizing, my observations, my trials and errors, my theories, my ideas, my actions. But then again, why post it on the web?
I suppose it is this question that gets to me. I can easily answer it by telling myself that in the hegemonic direction that virtual technology is heading, it just makes sense. Yet I love the diary, the paper journal, the sketchbook. The tactile richness of writing with pen in hand and notebook leaning up against a knee, stained with the rings of coffee cups, I like tearing out pages that I regret writing in, or passing the book around for collaborative responses. I like the fact that when I am out on my bicycle in the middle of nowhere I can pull over, pull out my little book while biting the cap to my pen off, and there sitting in the gentle shade inscribe my witnessing of it all...
Yet people do carry laptops with them on long loaded bicycle trips.
It is a difficult thing to reconcile, analogous to the decision of a photographer to go digital after chemistry has made a home in his heart and the gelatin silver wrestles with the pixels in vain because after all they are not in opposition to each other but pitted against each other because of some strange hangup that the photographer has. Trying to choose one over the other, trying to rationalize, knowing fully that logic creates war.
It is a block, but the more writing the better I suppose and I dare not discriminate against the contamporary fashion of logging known as blogging... why the b I ask though? And why the internet? Why the internet?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
pathetically plathering
I have just mailed the last bill to cingular--at this point in time, at&t-- and look forward to using up every remaining bit of cellular talking on my plan before it is disconnected in November.
Today I also mailed the Canyon Disposal Inc. the last of our garbage pick-up fee, as we don't produce enough trash to pay twenty dollars a month. Our neighbors' bins pile sky high with all kinds of domestic debris, spilling out to the gravelly pavement and often blowing into our yard. Our secret: recycling. We're not even composting yet, (tricky to operate with the landlord's policies) but our weekly trash ammounts to only the bottom surface of our 10 gallon bucket. That just leaves us with our 65 dollar base sewage treatment use bill every month and our ridiculously large house's month to month rent. One would think, (we did) that moving out to the middle of nowhere would save one money on the daily expendetures that make up the cost of living. Not so. Now that we've moved out of the urban we are dealing with all of those little details that we once took for granted. Big things that are paid for in the fractions by taxes, public funds. Out in the Arizona Sonora desert one does not have such collective luxuries. It is stretch or starve, to quote my father from numerous dinners. Capital capital capital, and we're living off an art teacher's salary and renting a mansion. Alas we might have learned a good lesson about the hidden costs. . .
Today I also mailed the Canyon Disposal Inc. the last of our garbage pick-up fee, as we don't produce enough trash to pay twenty dollars a month. Our neighbors' bins pile sky high with all kinds of domestic debris, spilling out to the gravelly pavement and often blowing into our yard. Our secret: recycling. We're not even composting yet, (tricky to operate with the landlord's policies) but our weekly trash ammounts to only the bottom surface of our 10 gallon bucket. That just leaves us with our 65 dollar base sewage treatment use bill every month and our ridiculously large house's month to month rent. One would think, (we did) that moving out to the middle of nowhere would save one money on the daily expendetures that make up the cost of living. Not so. Now that we've moved out of the urban we are dealing with all of those little details that we once took for granted. Big things that are paid for in the fractions by taxes, public funds. Out in the Arizona Sonora desert one does not have such collective luxuries. It is stretch or starve, to quote my father from numerous dinners. Capital capital capital, and we're living off an art teacher's salary and renting a mansion. Alas we might have learned a good lesson about the hidden costs. . .
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