June 30

The aging flower

June 29

Eastman photos

I added the new images to flickr, with my colorful commentary. I also saw a House Centipede when I came in just now. It grossed me out, but they are harmless. That's what I keep telling myself.

Why am I still up? Perhaps I am just excited because someone is coming to visit me tomorrow!

Work in progress and thoughts on process

I put an image of my sewing, in-progress, on my news page. It has evolved since I designed it, which means it is closer to done than the original plan. Originally, I wanted it to emulate the moral-poem samplers of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but in this ironic, contrary way. The poem I wrote, which I may post later, was a re-imagining of the events surrounding Belle Gunness, but as I completed all my little French knots, and sat back to admire my work, I couldn't help feeling sad for her victims. This is how art evolves: you start with one thing that gets you thinking/making, then you step back and realize, 'that original thing isn't worthy of this thing I want to make,' and you delete it. I started out thinking of this woman who used men for money, then coldly destroyed all the evidence in a dramatic escape (allegedly), but I am not interested in commemorating her violence. I am more interested in the things that hide in the ground, that we walk on but never see, the history that all places have whether they reveal it or not, whether they are good or not. So, the completed piece will be different, and I am hoping to have it finished soon.

Art Tourist

I set off to be an Art Tourist today. First, I went to the Memorial Art Gallery (from the website, I had no interest in going at all, but after my tour of the artists' graves at Mount Hope Cemetery, learning it was erected by a grieving mother after the lose of her 20-something painter-son, it became a little more interesting to me), where they were having an "Art and Treasures" sale. I don't know what 'treasures' means-- it looked like all the random stuff from my grandma's china hutch that no one wanted. I bought a rabbit print by Esther G. Rolick for two dollars. It isn't signed or dated, but I also bough a sketch of rabbits that she signed and it's dated 1964. The odd thing about Esther, is when I google her, I can find obituaries of her family (she might still be alive, I can't tell), references to her in art magazines from the 60s, pictures of her teaching or swimming or touring Europe, but no images of her art. It seems strange to me-- like she was a good enough artist to be noteworthy for her influence, but not to have any of her images online (either in museums or for sale).

This dismayed me. It may sound silly, but I worry about my work disappearing. Some of it will and should, but all of it? Right before I have shows, I suddenly think, "This would be a terrible time to die. No one will know what it is supposed to look like. No one can finish the series." It's incentive. I am happy to say in my rally against disappearing, I completed and signed a special set of six images to donate to the archive collection at Visual Studies Workshop. I don't know what will happen to them there, but for a little while, my work exists outside myself, in a collection to be cataloged and archived. I love being archived.

Ah, I completely lost my train of thought. Art Tourist. Right.

I also visited the George Eastman House today. This post has gone too long to share images, as I did enjoy taking pictures in the house. The exhibits were alright. The technology exhibit was awesome for a cameraphile like myself. The photography exhibits seemed surprisingly under-whelming, with the exception of the video in the Curse of the Black Gold exhibit, and some of the photographs relating to Africa from the permanent collection. The images of Eastman himself were sort of surprising. He appeared to be a grumpy, lumpy, unimpressive character--if it weren't for all the money he was throwing around and the presidents and tycoons he was bumping elbows with. I was disappointed to see he seemed more interested in his house and business prospects than in photography. I always imagined the invention of the Kodak camera to be a labor of love, bringing photography to the people. Obviously, it was also an excellent business opportunity and he became filthy rich for it, but I still wanted it to be because he loved photography.

This concludes my experiences as an art tourist. I will be adding flickr images of the Eastman House soon, but I am tired of being in the creepy basement alone, even if it is where the scanners and WiFi are.

I love you.

Nameless Rapture

I believe artists should love their own work. Not just love it, but be in love with it. It's already something that consumes so much of our physic and emotional energy, I think you should have that kind of affection for it. I do. That's probably why rejection, editing, and destroying of art work is so difficult. Yes, sometimes I have work that falls our of my good graces, and I not only don't love it any more, I hate it. In the darkness of night, when no one is around to catch me, I murder it and dispose of the evidence.

But that doesn't happen too often.

It makes me sad for folks with regular jobs, when I don't see that light of love in their eyes at the end of the week. Life is hard enough without not having something to look forward to every day. Every day-- ha, I wish I made something new every day.

Anyway, blah blah, love love sappy... What I am trying to say is this month, I am so happy to see that I am actually bringing more out of the images than ever before. More details, more tonal ranges, more color consistency. Now, when others look at it, they can start to see those qualities that make it so endeared to me.

Before I left Indiana, I made about ten 15" x 15" prints of my work, and when I got to New York, I hung them all over my apartment. Various people saw what I had done and commented the rooms look so much fresher with new art, etc. I was proud of the prints. Now, when I see them, I see muddy, awkward colors, flat shadows, soft details. When I look at them now, I shudder that anyone else ever saw them. Something will have to be done about them...

June 28

A-mus-ing

It seems hard to believe that my time here is almost over. I have been here for twenty-six days, as a 'full-time' artist. Here is what I think I have learned.

The place does not affect my art-making. I will either make it or not, regardless of where I am. When packing/planning to come, I had these lofty goals of having this rigorous schedule when I got here-- up at 7, making drawings in the morning (to warm me up), shooting/scanning/editing/printing all day with a break for sushi lunches, then an evening of reading art theory books and planning more projects. What I was (not) surprised to find, was I didn't want to make drawings at 7, I did not want to shoot all day (I worked on different projects depending on my mood), and I did not want to stop in the evenings and then read some heavy theory. I only had sushi lunch once-- most days I forgot to eat lunch. I did a morning ritual-- not drawings, but emails and blogs. That morning ritual took more time than the Internet should, but then again, a drawing would have probably taken longer. Then I would work on whatever project until I was too exhausted to go on--usually eight or nine more hours. Then I would either want to watch t.v. (mindless), or I would start something else (mindless but productive) and would do that for another five hours. Suddenly in the whee hours of the morning, I would be shocked and realize my morning ritual the following day was even farther from my 7AM goal. On the other hand, did I get any less done than I could have hoped or imagined? No, I did a lot. Maybe I could have done more if I was a different person. But I am me, and I credit myself for having such a broad range of skills and interests as to hold my own attention, if not a sleep schedule.

It is a shame I dragged along so many books.

Last night, I went shopping for some supplies. When I got home, I set the large bag down to go make dinner (yeah, at 10 PM). Torah kept messing with the bag. Eventually I emptied the bag, but left it for him to play with. I was working on the computer when there was a sudden white hurricane through the room, the size of a German Shepard, sounding surprisingly plastic. Within milliseconds, the hurricane came back through the room, in colors similar to Torah. I went to investigate. I found him, bigger and fluffier than I had ever seen, and no amount of comforting would lay down the hackles of his back. I carried him to find the bag, to show him it was okay. In the bathroom, I found Dharma sitting on the toilet tank, the handle of the bag around her body. She looked shocked, but not as much as he did. I took the bag off her, noticing a large hole in the bottom. I can only guess what happened-- and my guess is also far-fetched. Did Torah climb into the bag, then Dharma went to look, got stuck in the handle and ran, dragging him through the apartment? I don't know. But it was hilarious.

June 27

Tonight tonight

June 26

Why t.v. is bad, even on the Inter-webs

I took a break yesterday, and decided to watch the season finale of House on the web, while sewing of course. The above scene, surely stolen from my own art, from Part 1. Part 2 prevented my sewing-- I couldn't see the needle and thread for the tears.

June 25

June 24

It's been four years, but I still miss her so much, my heart hurts.

At Work

New computer/camera bag and a little CS3

One of the first things i ordered when I got here was a new laptop and camera bag. I had it all picked out already, but I thought I would be able to find a store here that had it in stock. Nope.

This bag is by the company Tenba, and it made to hold a 15 inch laptop and a camera with accessories. It has a heavy-duty, padded shoulder strap, a padded compartment for the laptop, and a removable, padded insert for the camera. The back is also padded for your hip's comfort. It comes in many stylish colors, though my choice was plum. When I first pulled it out of the box, I thought it was really heavy and was dismayed. Since then, I've gotten used to it and enjoy being able to drag lots of expensive things with me, without fear of them being damaged. I haven't taken advantage of all the pockets yet, with one exception. The front, left pocket is designated for the cell phone. It is one of the few carrying-things I have that doesn't immediately eat and disappear my phone!

On another technology note, this is the first animated gif I have made with Photoshop CS3. Animated gifs are falling by the way-side (where is that, exactly?), but I do like them for their kitschy, instant gratification. CS and CS2 came with a wacky software called ImageReady, meant for optimizing graphics for the web. It also made animated gifs, which is all I used it for (I used the "Save for Web" option in Photoshop for optimizing, and never saw another need, although I know there were). I even included it in my Digital Imaging and Web Design courses. Some of my flash students scoffed at it at first-- "why would anyone make those instead of just using Flash?" But they saw the light once they made them. They're fun! It's like using glue and crayons and scissors when you know you could be using markers and laser-cut punch-outs.

Anyway, CS3 has decided ImageReady was extrenuous and most of its features could be integrated into (eaten by) Photoshop. There is a new "Animation" window to accomplish this, and like ImageReady, you save a PSD version for editing, but like Photoshop, you simply use your "Save for Web" option to make the gif. It's so easy!

That's all for now. You know, this is the first thing I have ever written online that resembles a "review." Perhaps it is influenced by a certain company (who sells camera and computer equipment-- I do shop there) emailing me today and asking to put an ad on my site. My site could make money? Neat! My site would no longer be art and just be like all the other sites out there? Hm. Maybe I am too attached to the starving artist motif.

Retro Techno

Remember when t.v.s had rabbit ear antennae? You would be watching a show and if you changed the channel, you had to get up and adjust them for the new channel. Sometimes, you couldn't get that channel at all, unless someone held onto the antennae the whole show, sometimes even with a leg sticking up at a weird angle. At the climax of the show, no one in the room was allowed to move, least you miss the announcement of who-done-it.

Flash-forward to cell phones and you have the same thing. "Can you hear me now?" How many people do you know who have to go out on their lawns to use their cell phones?

Then there is the WiFi. I am living in a big, old building on one side of a giant bearing wall (really-- it's 2 feet thick), the WiFi router on the other side and on a different floor. The first day I was here, I set my computer on my desk, turned it on, got my e-mail, updated my blog, had a video chat session, and all was well. The next day, I could not get any signal at all. I moved the computer to the kitchen table, got my e-mail, updated my blog, etc. The next day, the signal was gone.

I periodically check for signal around the apartment. I can be sitting with my Ziggy on the bed, and suddenly it's there. I will update Twitter, then go to check that it uploaded, and the signal disappears.

This weekend, I have been working on projects at the kitchen table, and watching movies on my laptop at the same time (background noise). Suddenly, there was the Internet. So I started watching t.v. shows. It was a lot of fun, and it is much easier to process my 10,000 images of dead-people-graves with comedy on in the background. Every now and then, the signal disappeared, then five minutes or more later, reappeared. Since I am not moving, the computer is not moving, and presumably, the router is not moving, this has become a mystery and a cause for ridiculous superstitious behavior.

Some examples:

1. Sunday, I heard someone vacuuming in the building and the signal disappeared. The vacuum might have sucked up the signal, or there is electromagnetic interference. Could go either way.
2. This morning, the cats made an exceptionally stinky contribution to their box (which they refuse to bury) and I finally had to get up and bury it myself. The signal disappeared. Apparently, WiFi is stronger if there are uncovered cat feces in the room.
3. I was drawing out the lettering for my cross-stitch, and decided that font wasn't working. I erased it and started a new design...

You get the idea.

June 23

QUOTE OF THE DAY

"Computers are about trying to murder you in a lake."
- from the show, The Office

June 22

***UPDATE***
6/24/2008

I'm not sure why my readers didn't point out that the image posted for today (the 22nd of June) was actually an image of the 22nd of NOVEMBER, which, last time I checked, is nothing like June. The sad part of this, is I captured the November image on one of my first shooting trips and mis-named it. As the file wasn't re-checked, I simply marked June 22 off my list and proceeded. I did not start posting until I was "sure" I had two full weeks of images (which I clearly didn't). As this day is also my mother's birthday, I did notice passing that date many times since then, but did not photograph it as I was sure I already had it. Should have, could have, would have. I am re-adding it to the "to do" list (which has only 23 missing entries), but you will not see it again until next year. Sorry.

Possible explanation for warm spot

My mosquito bite has made a section of my arm a little puffy, red, and hot to the touch. Perhaps it is not what I think it is.

Grave Spider

My parents said on the phone, "we're glad to see nothing upsetting has happened lately."

So I remember

June 21

Wash your hands before you eat

June 20

(However you define 'God,' of course.)

New images

Fish bone from Lake Ontario

I put some pinhole self-portraits on the website blog. Why not here? I don't know.
The titles will go here. Because then it is a little gift for all your hard work of checking so many sites.

The images are: "Mystery Artist," "Beer Ad Artist," "Cat Nap," "Thrift Store Movie," and "North Shore." For fun, I will tell you the exposures, and you can guess which was which. They are: 30 seconds, five minutes, 45 minutes, 1 hour, and 2 hours.

Look how many new posts are today! I also fixed the color on the Following Water post. I should have been ashamed for posting those washed-out-color images. And I was! So I fixed them! Will I go fix the terrible color on the Flickr images? No. Too time consuming.

Why not?

30-something

Dearest readers,

Some of you may not know this, but I have a 'big' birthday coming tomorrow. Don't drop your laptop to run and get me a card. I understand. You didn't know. But here is a list of goodies that it seems to me a woman of my eminent age might need.

Cool necklaces - I am not much of a jewelry person, but I do like being decorated with conversation pieces.
Sex and the City - from the few episodes I saw, this is the definitive guide to being 30-something. Among other things. Thank goodness I also don't have to deal with dating. And it makes me laugh. That keeps me young. By the way, this is $50 cheaper @ Target!
A facial - I know I don't do this girlly stuff. But maybe I am getting to an age where I need it.
Flash Card Reader - boring but useful. $30 dollar rebate until the end of the month too!
Hasselblad body - This model is about ... 30-something years younger that the one I use.
Wide-angle lens for Hasselblad - cause it's awesome
White-balance filter - I have spent a lot of hours lately doing my white balance. This thingy is supposed to make it so I don't have to!
Southworth and Hawes print - cause it's awesome

That's all for now. I can't really think of anything else. I'm pretty straight forward that way, and most of my toys are expensive. Sorry.

Have a great night.

K.S.W.

June 19

Satacchi Online Gallery

Vote for me! Early and often!! Until the 23rd.


*update* Well, it turns out you can vote only once (per machine?). Please vote, and tell everyone you know to vote too!

Collections

I have added a new set of photos to flickr. Basically, all this cemetery hopping has brought more clearly into light how much I love these carved little lambs, and how they bare their ravishment by time and elements. I have been taking pictures of them "for fun" (I know-- is that allowed?) and decided I finally had collected enough that I could put them here. All the grave stone reading has been starting to get me down, believe it or not. These cheer me up. Are you asking, "don't they remind you of all the dead children they represent?" My answer: well, you are very negative, aren't you?! Yes, of course they do, but in a way, they are also these beautiful little homages that have far outlasted the lives they represent, have taken on a new kind of life as aesthetically beautiful, perfect objects. Who can claim such an achievement in their own lifetimes?

Let me know what you think.

Following Water

Only one mile from where I am living here in Rochester, N.Y., is a waterfall. There is no need to go on an epic journey to get to it--it is right in the middle of the city. There is no mecca-like exchange in the awe of nature-- it is right under a freeway. I can't tell you how sad it is to me that the freeway was put there. I can see the use of the river and the falls in historic commerce and production--this is an area born of the Industrial Revolution after all. But a freeway? Right over it? No, you can't see the falls from the road. It's probably better that way. Fewer accidents.

But they were lovely falls.

And just downstream of them, maybe two miles...

More falls! I know, can you believe it? I have seen more water falls this month than in my entire life combined. The river winds north (I didn't really know they did that), and empties into Lake Ontario, at the northern border of the country. I didn't see any Canadians trying to get across by boat, like the Cubans do in Florida. But is was a fascinating feeling to have stood at so many borders of our country. How many people never see these things?



The river concludes its journey in a bay that connects with Lake Ontario.

I can't remember the last time I saw a beach. With sand even.

June 18

Interesting Facts

Interesting facts about Indiana:

• Oldest surviving Revolutionary War soldier buried near Crawfordsville. (Most likely was a fraud-scroll to Fruits)
• Indiana has sever rock formations and lakes caused by Ice Age glaciers
• In 1891 in Crawfordsville, a monster or UFO was spotted twice in the same week (though never again)
  
• The most prolific American female serial killer was from Indiana
  
• One of the most famous crystal skulls (think Indiana Jones) is in Northern Indiana
• People from Indiana, as well as race tracks, trailers, and cabinets are called Hoosiers
• Famous Hoosiers include Michael Jackson, Orville Redenbacher, Jim Davis, William Henry Harrison, and Dan Quayle
• *update* also home to the second tallest woman in the world, and the oldest person in the world!!
  

Interesting facts about Rochester:

• Buried here are: Frederick Douglas, Susan B. Anthony, and the prime suspect for Jack the Ripper
• The lakes near Rochester were formed by receding glaciers
• Famous Rochesterians include: Angelo Buono, Jr., Kristen Wiig, and John Jacob Bausch
• Rochester is transected by the Genesee River, with a 100-foot waterfall in the downtown area. In 1829, a man who had successfully jumped from the Niagara Falls (twice) died jumping off this waterfall
  
• The nineteenth century Spiritualism movement began in Rochester with the Fox sisters
• Kodak was born in Rochester

June 17

Good eats

Grocery stores have such wonderful things.

June 16

I have decided to make a kind of calendar using grave stones. They are meant to remind you of the past, remind you of the departed, and remind you it could happen any day.

Cameras and Mothers

I had noticed a tiny 'light leak' in my dearest possession in the process of scanning my images. Not in every frame, but many, and going back many months. This morning, I shot a roll through both film backs, on mostly white walls to test this theory. I went out to shoot, came home to pick up the negatives, and then camped out in the basement to scan samples from each set. Alas. It is a real leak.

I was on the phone with my mother at the same time and decided to tell her about this, because it made me so suddenly sad. Somehow it came up that, yes, this was a camera my dad had given me, and yes, he would have bought it when they were together. I could feel the ground slipping out from under me, and I was going to tumble down that muddy filthy cliff no matter what I did.

But I still tried to save myself, to stop it.

As she began to try to reiterate whatever wrong in her marriage was associated with this camera, I spoke more loudly about how sad it was and it was rebuilt, and yes, I looked up the serial number and the camera was from 1967 after all, but still...

I don't think she heard me.
"It was after you were born, and I was working at the bank..."

"The camera was used, mom; it was made in 1967. Now I have to decide if I will buy another one for $2K along with the $2.5k for the scanner..."

"I don't know if it was used, but he bought it in 1980..."

I couldn't seem to sway her. She was determined to go there. I just couldn't take it.

What I would have liked to have said, I didn't. I hope you believe me when I say I have managed to say such things to her in the past with excellent results, but the energy was beyond me.

I wanted to say, "Look, mom, I get it. You hate my dad. You had a terrible marriage and you are going to hate him forever and ever and you have no intention whatsoever to get over it. I get it. But you know what? I am related to him and I always will be and you just have to deal with it. Now will you actually listen to what I am talking about or do I need to hang up?"

Instead I changed the subject and hurried to the end of the call.

I'm still sad about the camera.

This song by OK Go shuffled onto my iTunes as I typed this post. Serendipity.

Mount Hope Cemetery

I went on a tour of the Mount Hope Cemetery this morning. In the rain. Seemed like the best thing to do on a Saturday morning, for a follow-up post to yesterday! I couldn't help being distracted by the group of school teachers also on the tour, who giggled and talked the whole time, then asked questions the guide already answered. Every time we saw a grave of someone remotely young (my age and younger, really), whether the guide said, "died of typhoid" or just "died suddenly," they would chorus together, "ohhhhh, that's soooo saaaaaaddddd!!!!" Later they mocked the Victorians for thinking about death so much as to plan their monuments and grave sites.

On the walk back, I asked the tour guide if we were passing the Ironic section of the cemetery. The group looked over to see what I did:What do you want to bet he adds that to the tour from here on out?

We must shrink from being fully alive

Untitled from the Landscape sequence of "Rapt in the Nameless Reverie"
30" x 30" lambda print, 2008

I want to put a few lines here, but not go on too long. Far greater writers have written far more numerous accounts of what I want to say. I acknowledge them. But for a moment, a few lines, I want to speak of death, of knowing of its existence. Any moment, any time-- it can come. And mostly we fight it. We fight the illness, the attacker, the elements. For the most part, we avoid direct confrontation when possible (we are passive aggressive that way), except in rare cases. Occasionally, one looks out over the rushing river and sees someone drowning, losing the fight. One sees them giving up, and makes the choice to fight the dark specter on their behalf. Sometimes, you fight when you don't want to, and other times you get to choose your battles. Many times we win, but alas. Eventually, a day will come when we have expended all our strength to our cause, and we will choose to lay down our weapons in search of peace.

Then there are other kinds of death, sneaky, conniving, stab-in-the-back types. Those types do not give us the dignity to fight or choose. These deaths aren't at all fair (if any are). Some are accidents. But others... well, I leave to your imagination.

So to you, Driver, who decided to run a red light at 50 mph (in a 35 zone), when opposing traffic was already in the intersection, as was my fragile pedestrian body (missed by a mere two feet), to you I curse with seven terrible attacks this week, at least one of which will be VD.

Subject line quoted from Ernest Becker.

New title

I have often thought if the minds of men were laid open, we should see but little difference between that of the wise man and that of the fool. There are infinite reveries, numberless extravagancies, and a perpetual train of vanities which pass through both. The great difference is, that the first knows how to pick and cull his thoughts for conversation, by suppressing some, and communicating others ; whereas the other lets them all indifferently fly out in words. This sort of discretion, however has no place in private conversation between intimate friends. On such occasions the wisest men very often talk like the weakest; ffor indeed the talking with a friend is nothing else but thinking aloud. (Joseph Addison, "The Spectator," 1711)

I have been using a "working title" for my photo series for some time now. I basically have been in denial of its flaws, even though every time I say that title, I myself cringe. It's high time I change it. I cannot tell if that makes me wise or the fool to admit I am revising and editing a series in what seems to be such a foundational way, but when it came time to decide today whether or not to put it in print... well, denial can only swim you so far down that river!

That said, the series formerly known as "Retroreflections" is being edited/changed to be "Rapt in Nameless Reverie." Let me know what you think.

Yes, yes, it all ends too soon.

Self-Portrait of an Artist in Defiance of Her Aging

Regrets

This morning, I was going about my business in my little apartment, eating my breakfast, packing my briefcase, getting ready to head into the lab for a long day of scanning and digital drudgery. I opened the front door, and saw a little white fuzzy. It looked just like the cat's toy with the exception of a rather life-like (though short) tail.

And then I realize it is a real mouse, not a simulated mouse, and I am looking at his little white belly, which is slightly flattened from being under the door.

I didn't know what to do, so I closed the door back on it.

Obviously, not a solution. Once I realized that, I opened the door again and considered my options (running and finding a person who worked here to get it, was my first thought, but that seemed lame). Little dead mousie went into a grocery sack (another use for the terrible things!) and was carried directly to the dumpster.

Only an hour or so later did I think, "Man, that would have made a cool scan-o-gram."

Saatchi Online Gallery

Vote for me! Starting the 16th!!

Inspirations

Blogging is back-seated

Blessedly, I have been spending time with locals this weekend and feeling more like a human than a metaphor. There was a delightful art walk type thing on Friday, followed by late night conversations in parking lot and hidden workrooms, a gallery shopping spree on Saturday followed by live music at the pub. It seems like the right amount of distraction for the weekend and I am ready to get back to work!

Here are links to the awesome folks I have recently met:
Kris
Lisa
Robyn
Kirby

There are more, but I haven't found them on the internet yet.

Room Escape

Here is the slide show of the apartment. Make sure you read the descriptions and look at them in order! (Click on the little picture to the right to move on, not the arrow. Not an easy interface, I know.)

Blogging

To be clear, there are some posts I feel belong here, and some on my website blog. It's confusing to decide what goes where, but if you check both places, you should see some awesomeness.

I have received requests for pictures of the apartment. I am working on them now!An organized desk is a thing of beauty. Everything in its place!

Scanning

My laptop and I are in the computer lab, hooked up to a Nikon Super Coolscan 9000. It is diligently scanning away. I think each one takes about ten minutes. Yes, I have 25 to do. It's OK. What's funny is I am on my laptop in my spare time too. And when I upload pictures or the blog. Basically, it's my only friend right now.

It's not sad, I promise. Just a sign of the times. The device to make images, sort them, communicate, entertain, etc. is all under my hands as I type this. Do you see these words? Straight from the tips of my fingers pressing these beautiful silver keys.

I added a little slide show thing in the side bar (to the right). I have not downloaded my latest images from the camera yet, but these are some from the weekend. Sorry I couldn't figure out how to make them in the entry. I have a headache and that problem-solving challenge isn't compelling enough!

What it's like in my head.

Right brain: "Oh, new negatives!! Let's go scan them right NOW!"

Left brain: "Don't you think we should unload the car first?
The bed isn't going to make itself."

Right brain: "But I have NEW NEGATIVES!!
I HAVE TO LOOK AT THEM RIGHT NOW!!"

Left brain: "Why don't we unload the car first, then have some dinner,
then you can look at them?"

Right brain: Oh, that would be prudent, but we are an ARTIST, not a PRUDE!!
Come on, I can't even remember what is on these negatives!

Left brain: "But we took those last week."

Right brain: "I have a short attention span."

Left brain: "And you're a little OCD.
Why don't you take a nice, deep breath, count to five until the
compulsion passes, then go empty the car and have some dinner.
Doesn't that sound nice?"

Right brain: "NO IT DOESN'T! This month is about ME, not YOU.
I don't have to be logical, or prudent, or go to bed on time or ANYTHING but MAKE ART! Negatives first!"

Left brain: "Do you want to sleep on the dirty sheets again?"

Right brain: hesitates. "No. OK, ONE trip only. Then negatives. Maybe the sandwich."

Left brain: "Deal."

VSW in Rochester, NY

I am living in a two room corner of the laboratory/studio building of the Visual Studies Workshop. I do mean two room, and not two bedroom. But I am not here for a vacation, I am here to work. True, I had kind of hoped to have access to a pool and a gym, but no matter! And true, I realized I am completely addicted to the internet, but I do not have a signal in my sitting room. I have a little signal in the eating area (notice I didn't say kitchen), but it is not comfortable to type. So I am practicing writing without the instant gratification of seeing it online immediately as I edit it. Didn't know I did that, did you!

I have done 'shopping' since arriving last night. It's getting expensive, but cé la vie.

The grocery store is a chain called Wegman's, a regional store. I would like to their site and history (if it's online) but again, no internet as I type. Wegman's is a claustrophobic place, the facade of which has a distinctly 1970s look. Inside, I found myself in a different store than I have ever been in. Perhaps it is also reminiscent of a 1970s store, but I wouldn't know. The aisles were hardly wide enough for one person and were packed with more varieties of things than I could imagine.

There was a Deli section, complete with a service counter for your fresh cut deli meats. Next to that was a meat counter (didn't I just pass meat?), with all sorts of meat. I get nervous around sales people, and there were at least three butchers behind the counter. I didn't want to accidently make eye contact, so I don't know what kind of meat was in there, but it was a long counter. Then was the cheese section. It had a counter too, but no one there. There were three different kinds of fresh mozzarella. Several big rounds of hard cheese. Lots of cute, saran wrapped wedges of yellow and white cheeses. Then the yogurt section. Three different kinds of 'live' varieties, several kinds of soy-based yogurts (not just one!), and goat yogurt. There were two aisles of breads. They had my soy milk in the jumbo size.

I was overwhelmed. I bought some simple things, keeping in mind I would have to carry it through a building and up a flight of stairs, and jam it into a 3 cubic foot fridge.

This morning, I went to Target (oh, how I've missed you). I bought a new rug (to cover the scary-dirty rug in the eating area), new sheets (while sheets were provided, I couldn't help thinking they might splurge to replace them when they have become as stained as these), a new pillow (everything seems dusty), flip flops (didn't have any), a hair dryer (why did I think there would be one? this isn't the Holiday Inn!), and lint/cat hair rollers (I hadn't thought I would need this).

I went to a camera shop, intending to buy a camera bag I had seen online (this is a dealer-- not available in C'ville!), some negative sleeves, and maybe some film. The shop was in a converted fire station, a beautiful little brick building with the engine bay doors converted into windows. I had high hopes in the town that invented photography as we know it.

Alas.

They had no film.
No negative sleeves. ("We can special order them, but it will take three weeks.")
And the camera bag I wanted, was of course not there.

So I drove to Kodak. I needed hope. I thought of it as traveling to Mecca to kneel before my god!

Alas.

Kodak headquarters is a beautiful high rise in the art deco style. Across the street in the hole of what I assume was one of their factories recently torn down (I would link to the article, but I can't. It was a couple months ago). I asked the very nice receptionist about a factory tour. She apologized and said they stopped doing that fifteen years ago.

I left, again defeated.

I headed to the photo lab, Rochester Photographic, to drop off my film for developing. Remember, this is something that was a 120 mile three day epic in C'ville. It turns out the lab is several blocks from where I am staying-- potentially walking distance. I went in with my film. The young man who came to help me (it reassures me that a young man worked there, as opposed to the really old folks at my Indiana lab-- this isn't a dying art yet) even knew I would want "process only" and didn't flinch at the 120 film (I've heard "What's that?") and even said they would sleeve them for me (no three week wait). If that wasn't enough, they will be ready today. In the same day. The same afternoon, even.

This is why I am here, to get these things done, to make the work, to make more work.

I will have to mail order my film, I guess. I have to buy my Kodak film from NYC and have it shipped to Rochester. Do they know how expensive gas is right now??

Green Leaf

Route 90 through New York is a toll road. You get a card when you get on the freeway, with your on ramp marked with "xxx" and a list of subsequent off ramps and their prices. This means: potty-breaks cost money. But the states can offer you "free" off ramps with certain vendors, restrooms, etc. I think I mentioned this in December on the drive to Indiana. In that case, you could only eat at McDonald's.

So I was hungry, had to use the restroom, and was itching to post to 'twitter', when I saw a sign that said, "free exit", "free wifi", and "Greenleafs Grille" restaurant. Don't try to find it online-- it doesn't exist there yet (I know, who would have thought). The exit is in a town called Pembroke. The restaurant sounded like the same one I was in while in Denver (also don't bother searching for it on the internet), introduced to me by a delightful woman named, Angela Faris Belt. It had all kinds of yummy salads, so between that and the WiFi, I was practically forced off the road.

I also acquired a stack of brochures about New York and all the amazing things there are to see and do in the Finger Lakes region. The most hauntingly tempting for me, is of course the George Eastman house.

Niagara Falls

I went to the U.S. side of Niagara Falls last night. A huge, rushing river, then a cliff. No one in the water. This time.

The river is wide

I will re-up-load this soon, as the aspect ratio is wrong.
These are images of the upper rapids I took while walking across the bridge.

Peace and War

Patriots and road trips

Us Americans invented the road trip, right? "Go West, Young Man!"

I had this whole diatribe planned about "dead presidents" and how we normally relate to them as money. The diatribe was really good, I promise, but I am too tired and past my interest in it to write it out.

It was going to climax with "The true American road trip must include a visit to the chapels and bedsides of our great dead presidents." Something like that. Anyway, here we go.

This man served the second shortest term in presidential history. Nothing to brag about (not even the shortest term), and yet I was lucky enough to visit a large monument in his honor.

I was struck by how similar this tomb was to my visit to the Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi. There was a beautiful alter-type thing, a balcony with an extensive view, and a sign pointing to the basement, toward the tomb and the restrooms.

And sure enough, you walk down the stairs to see the door to the restroom, and to the left, coffins. Right there. Not even encased in protective concrete like Saint Francis.

The decor in the main level was pretty amazing. There are saint like figures for each of the states (not each one-- some random selection of eight or so), and the allegorical figures of "Peace" and "War."