After work, I walked over to the video store, looked around and finally settled on a stand-up dvd of Lewis Black, seen on The Daily Show. Getting in line, I notice that I'm only second in line but the agitated body language of the woman in front of me says there may be a longer wait than anticipated. It seems the couple being served are having a tough time finding thier selections in-store and there is only one clerk working the counter.

Agitated Lady became more annoyed and began looking around for some commiseration from whomever would be there, most notably, me.
Now, I'm still feeling a little sick and not in the mood to get myself worked up over a relatively short wait so when she turns around towards me, I feign interest in the Playstation games for rent to my left. She's still standing with her back towards the counter and I look to my right this time, again ignoring her. Finally, she turns back around. A few seconds later, its her turn. She gets her dvd and goes about her way.

emotional state: fair

( Read more... )

emotional state: better than yesterday

Went up to New York for the second time in a week Friday. This time to check out 'The Gates' in Central Park. It was bone-chilling cold but I was determined to see them since they are only up for the next week or so. I went up to 77th Street because, after wandering around the park, I was going to the Whitney.

Walking towards the park, I had a palpable sense of anticipation as I caught a glimpse of orange fabric flapping in the wind through the bare branches of trees. I didn't have long to wait because the gates were installed right up to the edge of the paths. I encountered the first series of gates at 76th and Fifth Avenue. The orange pylons straddled the path and the "saffron" (so-called by Christo and Jean-Claude) fabric was attached to the top of each gate. Each gate is 16 feet high and the fabric extends down to just above 7 or 8 feet. In person, the "saffron" color is really more like what I like to call the "safety orange" that is found on those orange and white stripped barrels that are used to demarcate road-work areas. Taken alone, the gates are not that interesting as art-objects, but when walking beneath a bunch of them together, then looking to the left and right to see more of them over a hill or across a field, you begin to get the sense of the enormity of the project.

In all of my visits to New York, I never really spent time in Central Park. I've always been on the edge if the park and never ventured that far into it. 'The Gates' drew me farther into the park than I thought I'd even go. While walking around, taking pictures, and just looking, I found myself finding path after path and wanted to explore more than I'd ever done in the past. Walking along, I noticed that the gates enhanced my experience of the park's landscape. I stopped a couple of times and traced a hill with my eye until the orange of the gates disappeared, then I'd look in another direction and see the tops of gates that were on a path below where I was. As a piece of public art, the gates seemed to do more than merely decorate the barren, mid-winter bleakness of Central Park.

As I mentioned above, it was bitterly cold and removing my hands from my gloves to take pics became less desireble the longer I was there. I became much more selective about what I shot the longer I was there. I did manage to keep the gloves on and take pictures, but it was tough. I was a bit disappointed with the lack of sunlight, but I made do with what little I could catch towards the end of my visit.

More info on 'The Gates' here.

emotional state: awake

Been taking a breather from lj a bit and just living life. I haven't felt the urgency to plop down in front of the computer first thing in the morning and first thing after work and detail what was on my mind so much lately and that's a good thing. I've spent way too much time over the past few months getting sucked into surfing and following every other link I come across. Anyway, I'm still around.
( this, that, and the other thing )

emotional state: sleepy
soundtrack: Zero 7: 'Distractions'

The day was gorgeous out, 40 degrees and sunny. It's always funny to see 5ft piles of snow gathered around telephone poles and other places in the street when it's this warm. Almost had me asking myself, "Is that really snow or did I dream about it?" I got my answer when I had to do the I-am-not-going-to-fall dance a second later. With some deft maneuvering of my feet, I continued walking as if nothing had happened.

On my way home on the second leg of my food run, I ran into someone I used to work with. Diane and her friend were carrying rolled up sections of old linoleum flooring. I said hi and went directly to asking why they had the flooring. Diane told me that they're working on a room-sized installation at thier school, UArts, and it's going to include mold grown by them that will be on the walls. I'd like to see that, as I'm a fan of installation art that incorporates organic matter. The idea did raise some questions as to just how they planned on growing the mold and the extent to which viewers will interact with it, if at all. I guess one concern would be if the installation is enclosed or open and the risks to people who may be allergic to certain types of molds. I know those would be questions on my mind if it were my project. Maybe I'm over-thinking it a little too much.

I remember seeing one small installation at the Institute of Contemporary Art years ago. It was a small, free-standing, stone enclosure that had phrases inscribed into the inner walls and a rectangle of moss growing in the center of the floor. A single light embedded in the stone overhead illuminated the moss. You had to search out the writings on the walls by squinting most of the time. It was simple, but had a lasting effect on me. It was one of those rare instances where an artist brought something out of the natural world and successfully pulled off having the piece work indoors.

When I got home, I had to attend to organic matter of my own; cleaning the stove. It wasn't too bad, except there is always that one piece of dried up, burnt-on food that makes you almost break a sweat trying to scrub off.

emotional state: amused
soundtrack: Lee Cabrera-'Shake It'

Felt better today than yesterday. I was just feeling crappy due to a bunch of things I need to get done that I've let pile up for a while. One of the more important things I need to do is get back to working out on a regular basis. It's been two months since I've been in the gym and I'm feeling it. I'm always reminded of how beneficial working out is for my emotional state when I haven't done so in a while. Once I return to a regular schedule of going to the gym, I'm fine.

There's always a point or two in the year where juggling work, studio time, gym time, and a social life becomes too hard and I find myself making compromises somewhere. The eye infection and case of sciatica I had during November and and part of December ensured that gym time was cut out for the duration of those issues. I could've gotten back to the gym in December, but didn't.

There's no point in belaboring the past and what I haven't done.

Tomorrow, my mood may lift even more since H. is coming for a visit.
...

May head up to New York towards the end of next week to check out The Gates, the latest project of Christo and Jean-Claude. I've never seen any of thier work in person and this is a major project of theirs that's easy to get to.

emotional state: okay
soundtrack: bbc world

Went to a birthday party for a friend, C, who lives in Germantown with her live-in boyfriend. C bought a house here last fall after relocating from Washington, D.C. to pursue an M.A. in Visual Anthropology at Temple University.

Tet and I were going to meet up on the R8 train out to Germantown. I told him what time to catch the train at Suburban Station, the next stop after Market East, where I got on. Somehow, he managed to be on the wrong platform and missed the train. He caught a ride up with a couple of other friends and arrived maybe 10 minutes after I did.

Walking to C's house from the train station, I was reminded of how nice it is in that part of the city. I used to live near Germantown when I was younger, in a section called West Oak Lane. Germantown was once a suburb of Philadelphia in Colonial days. Only the very rich and well-to-do of the time could afford to live there. Because of that, most of the houses out there are beautiful. Old wood floors, wide rooms, and a lot of space. Many of them sit back from the sidewalk and have small lawns. It's one of those places in the city that make you forget that you live in the city. There's a huge contrast between that and where I live, where row homes are the norm.

The party itself was pretty laid back. The crowd was composed of a mix of C's school mates and friends. The food was really good. There was a spicy shrimp dish that I couldn't get enough of. The potato-beet salad was new to me. I'd never had potato salad with beets before, but it was good. Everyone seemed to have a good time and it was nice meeting some of C's friends. The people in ther program at school all seemed to have only been in Philadelphia for 6 months or so, having moved from other places to attend Temple. One of them remarked about how hard it is to deal with traffic here because of the many small streets. She'd previously lived in Buffalo, New York where, I guess, it was much easier to have a car. Here, parking is also a headache, especially in the more central parts of the city.

Things started winding down kind of early, 12:30am. I was getting a ride back home from my friend, KC, so he, Tet, Corwin, and me all left at the same time.

emotional state: good
soundtrack: Phutureprimitive: 'Elysium'

I put my journal up for review at ljreviewz the other night. I knew what I was in for because I'd been reading reviews of other journals and was well aware of how brutally honest some of the reviewers can be. It was hard not to laugh at some of the cutting and abrasive comments. However, beyond the snarkiness and sarcasm, the members were often dead-on with thier assesments of writing style, grammar, and interest level of journal contents. I wanted to have some honest feedback about my writing and that community seemed like a good place to get it.

( the not-too-bloody aftermath )

emotional state: contemplative
soundtrack: Latin Lounge

I woke up to the wonderful sounds of the cat about to vomit. On the rug. again. Getting out of bed, my first instinct is to pick him up and move him to a spot of exposed floor so the cleanup would be slightly easier, but I'm too late. I stayed under the covers too long wishing this wasn't happening. It turns out to be nothing more than a hairball anyway, and for that, I'm grateful. A hunk of hair is easier to deal with than cat vomit that's mostly food.

I cleaned the spot as well as I could, spraying a mild all-purpose cleaner on the the area, scrubbing it, and covering the spot with paper until it dries. The problem with this is the cat still smells his vomit and is hell-bent on covering it up. All he manages to do is move the paper around, causing an annoying racket. I'm sure this will happen off and on all day.

It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't been wrenched from a very deep sleep. You know the kind, where you've settled into deep dreamland and are just getting comfortable in the world(s) your mind has constructed for you to wander around in. I tried to get back to that world but to no avail, so I'm up for the day. Once I'm up and my mind is racing along on whatever track it's following, there's no turning back. That, and my apartment is filled with sunlight now. Considering how I woke up, the sun being out makes my tiredness bearable.

emotional state: tired
soundtrack: bbc news

Had a wonderfully focused time in the studio today. In fact, today was one of those days when things just seemed right and everything fell into place, y'know?

studio journal

The "wtf?" news story of the day for me: the listerine made me do it

emotional state: accomplished
soundtrack: Groove Salad on iTunes

Linkage fun.

"the internet is a sin against God"

emotional state: semi-productive ;)
soundtrack: Latin Lounge

I was leafing through an old studio journal and came across something from a couple of years ago that was interesting. At the time of writing this particular entry, I was in the early stages of the series of paintings that would be my focus for the past three years or so.

I had a fifth floor space in the Goldtex Building, at 315 North 12th Street, just north of Vine Street. From my windows I could see north to Anderson Hall, on Temple University's North Philly campus, where I studied art from '91-'94.

studio journal with commentary

emotional state: pensive
soundtrack: King Britt: 'On the Seventh-Park Hyatt, Chicago'

I was asked recently by H. why I liked to look at nude photography. The only answer I could come up with that rang true for me was that I liked looking at the human body and find it incredibly sensual in it's many forms. I can appreciate the beauty of both sexes, but in particular women. I receive an email newsletter from Nerve.com every week and the first thing I do is hit up the photography section to see the newest set of photos they are highlighting that week. They feature some of the best nude photographers around and the photographs they have run the gamut from semi-commercial fashion shots to artsy to full-on hedonistic party shots.

From the time I was a horny teenager to now as a horny adult, I've always found enjoyment in seeing nudes. Sometimes, the looking has been for my own gratification and at others, just to admire. Also, as an adult, I've come to appreciate nude photography well beyond the usual pornographic depictions of sexuality. I'm just as inclined to appreciate a nude photograph that leaves something to the imagination as I do something more explicit.

The one thing I won't do is hide my enjoyment of various aspects of sex and sexuality. There's too much of that going around in this country. The U.S. is really schizophrenic when it comes to the realities of sex and the huge role it plays in our lives. It's not the most important, but our government and various sections of our society like to think that we need to be protected from ourselves when it comes to anything remotely sensual. I know this has a lot to do with our puritanical origins, however, it's the 21st century and any discussion of sex and sexuality on television is still harder to deal with than allowing depictions of murder. This is all old news, but it still gets on my nerves.

While I'm something of a perv at heart, a lot of what drives me is pure fantasy and will probably remain in that realm. If the chance to act on something comes up (no pun intended), then I'm all for it. Some things are best experienced as fantasy, where the imagination can control the situation. That's the only place we are likely to not be disappointed. I believe that you can make some of your fantasies come true, but most often, it's best to just let things happen rather than attempt to force them. Depends on the situation, I suppose. Some things require that you put some effort into making fantasy into reality. Other times, you may just be in the right place, with the right person(s), at the right time.

emotional state: naughty
soundtrack: Café Samba 2

When I was younger, my parents delighted in recounting the story of me as a toddler. I was around 2 years old or so and I was visiting my maternal grandparents. I was in my grandmother's care and she'd taken me with her on a grocery shopping trip. According to the story, my grandmother set a bag of tomatoes on the kitchen table and I proceeded to reach up and took a bite out of a couple of them, thinking they were apples. I absolutely loved apples, according to mom, and must have mistaken the red tomatoes for red apples. Anyway, my grandmother returned with another bag of groceries, discovered the ruined tomatoes and started chasing me. I ran and hid under a table in a vain effort to escape her wrath, so the story goes.

Now, I personally don't remember any of this. The story was told so much that I've constructed my own mental version of how it may have happened. This story was one of a few that my parents fell back on at family gatherings and dinners and was a favorite one to tell friends. One of those 'family folklore' tales that got everyone laughing.
...

Another event of my early youth I do remember pretty vividly and have the physical reminder of. This, too, became one of those stories my parents liked to recount fairly often. I had to do the same myself, since I had the scar everyone was always curious about. It goes like this:

At the time my parents and I lived in the predominately Black section of South Philly west of Broad Street, in a third story walk-up near the corner of 20th and Federal Streets. This one hot, summer day, I was home with my mother, who was taking a nap on the bed. It was a small, two bedroom apartment and the kitchen was directly next to my parent's room. I was almost 3 years old and looking for something to do. One of my favorite things to do was to play with the lids of pots; I liked to turn them upside down and spin them. It really didn't take much to amuse me at the time.

The cabinet the lids were in was a tall, farily lightweight, metal affair. White with chrome-like handles. The pots and lids were stored in the bottom of the cabinet and that's where my attention was focused. The doors were closed so I had to try and get them open. At first, they wouldn't budge. Like many toddlers, I was determined to get at what I wanted. I pulled and pulled and...the next thing I know is there is this tremendous crashing noise and I was crying like crazy. I had managed to get the cabinet off-balance and it had fallen on me. The upper righ corner of the cabinet had struck me in my left temple area. I was on my side on the floor, facing the bed where my mother was sleeping a few seconds before. With a start, she shot up and was screaming along with me, asking me what happened. I, of course, couldn't answer her as I was experiencing a private hell that hurt.

The rest of my memories from that day come in parts. I remember being carried down the stairs, with a bloody towel pressed to my head. Our neighbor across the street had a blue and white VW van and he drove us to Children's Hospital. Lying on the back seat then being placed on an operating table and staring up at three, big, round flourescent lights with a bluish cast to them. I had to have 32 stitches-16 inside and 16 outside. I was pretty lucky that day. Had I been hit maybe an inch over, I would have been killed.

That's my earliest conscious memory. There may have been others, but I think the trauma of it pushed any others away.

I can't tell how many times I was asked about the four inch long scar on the left side of my face. It seemed that every kid in my elementary school and countless adults asked me about it. The account I just wrote was shortened to, " I was two and-a-half, a cabinet fell on me, I needed 32 stitches to close the wound". That was it. I don't get asked about it much anymore as an adult. In fact, I can't recall the last time it even happened. It's really been a while. I forget about the scar myself often since it's blended in with my skin over the years. You can tell it's there, if you look at it from the right angle, but it can be missed if you aren't paying attention.

emotional state: thoughtful
soundtrack: 2nd Shift: 'It's Been a Long Time'

Thanks to the sun being out this morning, my sink is now clear of two day-old water and I have one less thing to worry about. The sun's heat must have been just enough to melt any ice that had built up in the pipe. I was not looking forward to having to carry a bunch of dirty dishes downstairs to clean them.
...

Slept ok. Had a dream in which an exhibition of mine was reveiwed, but I couldn't understand what was written. The review was in English, but it was just incomprehnsible.
...

With the poor showing of customers yesterday, we definitely lost money. My co-worker told me that it was busy in the morning, but by 3:30 and after, the store was practically empty. We had some customers and they were glad we were open but it still wasn't worth it. I think the Eagles game had a lot to do with the scarcity of customers. At least they won and are going to the Superbowl. I don't follow team sports at all, but when the playoffs for football come around, I pay some attention. My friends and I use the Superbowl as another excuse to get together and have some fun. And it's not just the guys, a lot of our female friends join in as well.

emotional state: hmmmmm...
soundtrack: Deep House on iTunes

I'm not in the mood for work today.

emotional state: annoyed

I have a double sink in the kitchen. Went to start washing dishes this morning and noticed the water in the second one wasn't draining. I knew what had happend and wasn't happy about it. I live on the top floor of a three story house and the pipe for my sink goes outside the house for a few feet. With temperatures the way they are here, it had obviously frozen at some point.

My first inclination was to attempt to plunge the sink. Of course, that didn't work, but I had to give it a shot. My housemate suggestedt that I use a portable heater under the sink to help warm the pipes. He said he had one, but I also have one, courtesy of H. I removed everything from under the sink that could be flammable to set up the heater and that's where things stand now. I don't know if this'll work, but it's worth a try.

emotional state: annoyed
soundtrack: computer hum

Well, the anticipated big snowstorm is here. It looks like Pennsylvania about 90% covered by this huge storm and it looks like it'll last for most of the day and into the night. It would be another great day to stay indoors with a couiple of movies, but that's not happening for me, nosiree, I's gots to go to work. Mm-hmm...

At least I don't have to go that far, that's some consolation.

...

Had a strange dream in which I was participating in an exhibition of some sort. The venue was scheduled to open soon, and the walls hadn't been painted before the work was hung. It was too late and I had to take a shower in this small closet, as the first guests arrived. Then, things switched to someone asking me if I'd move to Chicago. It seemed to be one of those situations where the correct answer was 'yes', but I hesitated. Before I could say anything, I had to help someone with some task...and that was it.

...

Wandering around lj yesterday, I came across soneone's journal in which they posted a link to a site that features moving gif images of male masturbation. Some of it is really funny, especially the running commentary accopanying each set of images.

Warning! Not work-safe!

The Tireless Hand

I still think women masturbating is a much more pleasurable sight, but that's just my very biased opinion. ;)

emotional state: It's Snowing!!!!
soundtrack: Ed Rush and Optical: 'Satellites'

Watched Shaun Of The Dead tonight. Hilarious movie. The thing I liked about it most was that it was low-budget, had a smart, funny script and wasn't like your typical horror spoof. It wasn't really a spoof, either. Anyway, it was wll worth it.

"Dire Straits?"
"Throw it"
....

The past couple of days in the studio have been good. Fairly short sessions, but quite productive.

studio journal

Musically, it was almost all Depeche Mode. I was just in the mood for listening to a lot of thier stuff yesterday. I had to really hunt down my copy of Music For The Masses but my persistence paid off. The studio soundtrack of the day went like this:

Depeche Mode:
Music For The Masses
Violator
Songs Of Faith and Devotion

Ministry:
Animositisomina

Terry Lee Brown, Jr.:
Chocolate_______(I forgot the last word in the title, but it's good deep house)

....

Talked to H. briefly last night. She was in a funk because of a conversation with her father. He's giving her a speech about changing her thesis topic in order to get out of school faster and telling her that she shouldn't have such high standards, etc... I didn't really know what to say, but it really annoys the hell out of me that she can't get any support from her family when it comes to what she's attempting to accomplish. It's nothing new as she's told me this before, and it's been going on for some time. He's hung up on her not making any money now, when she's actually doing what she needs to do to make herself better able to make a decent living doing what she wants in the near future. He doesn't seem to see that side of things.

I don't know...it's complicated, as most family dynamics are.

emotional state: contemplative
soundtrack: ticking clock on the wall and warm hum of the 'puter

Yesterday I purchased my first ever wall clock for my apartment. It's taking some getting used to. I came home today and the place was quiet except for this soft ticking whose origin I couldn't locate. It took me a minute before I remembered that I even had the thing. I have five places to see the time and they are all digital: the computer, vcr, clock radio near the bed, stereo, and the microwave. All of them are a little fast except for the computer.

I've wanted an analog wall clock for a long time (no pun intended). Digital timepieces are nice, but there's still something more, well, human, and even artful about a watch or clock with hands instead of a numerical readout. They are horribly overpriced, but I still stare at Movado watch ads longingly. Their beauty and simplicity is drool inducing.

Among other things, I cleaned up my computer desk and was even inspired to make it a bit less sterile. When I visited H. last weekend, she gave me two Japanese-style table lamps, both of which are welcome soft light sources. One of the lamps is right next to my computer and the other is over by the couch.

....

I've been tinkering with the look of this journal recently. I've just been in one of those moods to re-do some aspects of my surroundings lately. Since I spend a lot of time on the computer, particularily on lj, I thought I'd start here. Besides the cosmetic changes, I thought that I'd try something else new. I have another blog that's dedicated soley to my thoughts about art and related topics. I've had that one up since February, 2004. I've written in it sparsely over the past11 months, updating it for the first time in two months earlier this evening. Most of the writing there has to do with my own studio practice and general ramblings related to the art world as I see it.

I'll still post art-related things here from time to time, but most of my art postings will appear on the other journal and I'll post a link to it here when I update. The links will be titled 'studio journal' or something like that.

Or, something like this: studio journal

emotional state: accomplished
soundtrack: Morcheeba: 'Tape Loop'