Journal

On the day.

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My eyes keep falling upon these discarded objects. I have a weird habit of leaving the object there for a day or two; if it is still there after that waiting period, I am allowed to pick it up. I have been doing this for years and years. The objects are almost always very small, mostly two-dimensional. In some strange psychomagical moment they take on a poetic life.

Over the past two weeks, I have been methodically photographing these objects and returning them to the discard heap. There is great pleasure in unburdening myself of things filling boxes and weighing down my “mouvances“.

I always wonder about coincidence…

To blank with love.

To blank with love.

On pins and needles.

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Ah, there be days… there be days. E have always felt that words were so cumbersome to handle. E preferred images much much, and then more recently audio. Working with sound feels just like working with sculpture for me, except that I am both inside and outside the shape at the same time. It is a human scale Klein Bottle.

 

Pins and (K)Needles, from north-east to west-south-west.

Pins and (K)Needles, from north-east to west-south-west.

 

The day was a disappointment, not something one ends up regretting. But just full of those little things. He nicked his chin shaving*. Didn’t put the coffee maker together right and the resulting steam jettisoned from its sides, evenly spraying the nook with coffee grinds. Got unpleasant news in the mail.

It was sunny and cold.

*subsequently forgetting to remove the small piece of toilet paper used to stem to flow of blood and thus presented himself publicly with an oddly shaped flag of Japan stuck to the middle of his left jawbone, just above the hard curve falling towards the neck.