hush. I know it looks like play.
(but it's research, honestly.)
ha. play's all it is, plain and simple. or play masquerading as work. Work, if you want to be precious about it.
I could dress it up some. I could go on for paragraphs about birds and fish and how they'd use glass and water as intermediary sorts of media for translating each other's esoteric and arcane languages, and how this informs my Art.
art-speak. I might not have the particular education for it, but I can spit it out finely if I need to.
I choose not to need to. it's not a taste that appeals to me, that's all. it's neither good nor bad, it's just a language that isn't mine.
by the way. the birds say rain, definitely. the fish I don't know. I haven't been to the river in a while. and the shed says hello.
(it's all different now, inside and out. the doors are off, flipped upside down and backwards, being painted and repainted, being used as impromptu easels. clothespins hold the papers in place.)
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
one of the ways I amuse myself in the shed.
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3 comments:
now I've looked at the world through a blue bottle! You always challenge my staid little way of thinking and art-speak or not, that language opens up new neural pathways. Way cool!
Groovy, baby.
(But you shouldn't be dismissive of the discourse; it has its uses.)
pauline, the world through a blue bottle. there's a whole installation there I think. this was only the shed, and only a bit of it. of course the shed's different now, it evolves a little every day, whether I work in it or not. I must say that days started in the shed, with birds (or frogs, if it's early enough) or just the breeze going through the bamboo (which has been cut back some, but just laughed at my husband and continued growing anyway) are the best of days.
kathryn, it was groovy indeed. I thought if I found some nice coloured bottles and some donovan songs I'd be set. and yes I know, the discourse does have its uses and I might have to break down and do that, but not this morning anyway. possibly this afternoon, the shed's expecting visitors.
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