le fin (it's never the images you think)
duck & tiger @ Tucson Zoo / 2.22.2012
duck & tiger @ Tucson Zoo / 2.22.2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Winterday 99
old doodle I bumbled over today, and I rather liked it
pen sketchy doodle / February, 2011
pen sketchy doodle / February, 2011
Winternoon 96.5
I've been all-consumed with this book project, and too lazy (overworked? obsessively working?) to post pictures of it as it progresses, as 100 looms. I promise to do that today, and to wrap up tomorrow with an appropriate close. Plus, I think I'm going to head to the zoo today for a last (100 Days of Winter & Art version of) hurrah of animal spying. I cannot overstate this fact: though I've been somewhat mum lately, this 100 Days project and everyone's winterly contributions has been HUGELY important to me. Thank you. And you. And you. You two over there by the water cooler. And you, too.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Winterday 94
It's like yes.
It's, it is, I. You know?
I want, I wanted, yes.
It's hard to. You were
there. And then, I
I don't know. I
saw you there. You
but it's like.
Yes. Because it made
sense. Even if it didn't.
I got it. And you did.
You got it too. With
out having to wonder.
It's, it is, I. You know?
I want, I wanted, yes.
It's hard to. You were
there. And then, I
I don't know. I
saw you there. You
but it's like.
Yes. Because it made
sense. Even if it didn't.
I got it. And you did.
You got it too. With
out having to wonder.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Winterday 91
Sorry to send you to another site (my flickr, yes trust the link) but I can't seem to get my video to load here.**
** Also, some maybe sad news: my camera got super-wet in that snowstorm today, and then clunked against the floor in some spontaneous demonstration of gravity of which I was previously unaware was about to take place. It's not well. I have to get it looked at. I can't imagine daily life without a camera, my camera, so here's hoping it's a minor & fixable thing...
** Also, some maybe sad news: my camera got super-wet in that snowstorm today, and then clunked against the floor in some spontaneous demonstration of gravity of which I was previously unaware was about to take place. It's not well. I have to get it looked at. I can't imagine daily life without a camera, my camera, so here's hoping it's a minor & fixable thing...
Monday, February 13, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Winterday 88
and now, three unrelated images gathered
from top: B-36 (tail), old home movie, rose / Feb. 2012
from top: B-36 (tail), old home movie, rose / Feb. 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Winterday 87
Aircraft @ the Pima Air & Space Museum(special note: 2nd image is of "Freedom One," the airplane
that flew the Iran hostages home after their grueling ordeal)
Tucson, AZ / 2.9.2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Winterday 86
I've been working on photographing & otherwise digitizing a project from a couple years ago as there's a bit of renewed interest in it. In fact, just yesterday I learned that a local library would like to adopt said project into its rare book room. Once that transaction has taken place, I'll feel better about posting the details regarding its new home.
In the meantime, I set up a blog specifically for Stella...she came to me during an in-class activity in fall, 2010, and has turned into this absolutely incredible (and sometimes obsessively mesmerizing) project, one for which I am still creating chapters. Or installments. Or movements, I'm not sure what to call them. This piece that is leaving me shortly feels like a finished chunk o'work and as such I've taken to calling it Chapter 1. As I create more works, varied works as time marches on, I will leave morsels at the blog listed above.
This has taken up a good bit of my time, which is why I've been less than absolutely present as we wind down winter's version of 100 days. I have a few more tricks to pull out of my sleeves as we start the grand finale countdown. I've had a good time working intentionally and sometimes collaboratively, and especially in reviewing so much work output everyone has contributed. I hope all of you have felt productive this winter as well.
In the meantime, I set up a blog specifically for Stella...she came to me during an in-class activity in fall, 2010, and has turned into this absolutely incredible (and sometimes obsessively mesmerizing) project, one for which I am still creating chapters. Or installments. Or movements, I'm not sure what to call them. This piece that is leaving me shortly feels like a finished chunk o'work and as such I've taken to calling it Chapter 1. As I create more works, varied works as time marches on, I will leave morsels at the blog listed above.
This has taken up a good bit of my time, which is why I've been less than absolutely present as we wind down winter's version of 100 days. I have a few more tricks to pull out of my sleeves as we start the grand finale countdown. I've had a good time working intentionally and sometimes collaboratively, and especially in reviewing so much work output everyone has contributed. I hope all of you have felt productive this winter as well.
Winterday 85
odd hobbies: paint chip collection
(also part of new book project, chapter "pink") / 2.8.12
(also part of new book project, chapter "pink") / 2.8.12
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Winterday 79
An Entry on Process (no product included)
I went to a poetry reading tonight at the University of Arizona's Poetry Center, which would be my church if I had one. Jeffrey Yang & Katherine Larson read. I remember reading Jeff's An Aquarium when it came out a couple years ago and loving the structure the book took, like a bestiary that on the surface seemed very matter-of-fact, a collection of creatures arranged A-Z. Diving in, the murk of saltwater in eyes blurred the stanzas into tiny movements about relationships, mutterances, place.
Katherine I had never heard of, but the pieces she read were sciencey though not sterile, moments depicting the truthfulness that empirical observation lends us through the prism of an imperfect humanity. I love her work, and here is just a tiny reason. In one of her poems, she writes of being in Mexico, and the days start stacking up, and she says something something "emerge from the pale nets of sleep."
Some other words that found their way into my memory and quickly were:
the lawn of my childhood home (KL)
"When I enter a Yang poem, I have no idea how I'll exit it" (JY's introducer)
he could be a thief (JY)
smaller truths disappear against a larger one (not quite correctly quoted) (KL)
babies seasoned in orange spices (KL)
all earthly roads lead to war (JY).
I have many words steeping, waiting for me to nudge them towards some other words, north-to-south attractions dizzy with wordlust. I attended a lecture last night where Jeff spoke of his work as an editor/translator/poet in the publishing world and I was happy to see among the crowd classmates from three past workshop/class experiences. Euphoric might be a better descriptor. Which really oughta tell me something about where my passions point--they point to words, drunken words lollygaggingly staring up at me from the comfort of the floor.
I sat with one classmate/friend for tonight's reading, largely because we're both the sort of poets/observers who write frequently. Like while other people are talking. Like while other people are sleeping. It seemed right to sit elbow-to-elbow, journals flattened on laps, ascribble with both original thoughts and poems of others drifting in at odd angles.
There are some good tangents & possible narratives in the works. I'm going to sleep on them, for the most part, for the next handful of hours. Some more art this weekend, photos and some painting such as I do it. Some poetry, too, maybe a sculpture. Or some effusing about what comes knocking in the dark.
I went to a poetry reading tonight at the University of Arizona's Poetry Center, which would be my church if I had one. Jeffrey Yang & Katherine Larson read. I remember reading Jeff's An Aquarium when it came out a couple years ago and loving the structure the book took, like a bestiary that on the surface seemed very matter-of-fact, a collection of creatures arranged A-Z. Diving in, the murk of saltwater in eyes blurred the stanzas into tiny movements about relationships, mutterances, place.
Katherine I had never heard of, but the pieces she read were sciencey though not sterile, moments depicting the truthfulness that empirical observation lends us through the prism of an imperfect humanity. I love her work, and here is just a tiny reason. In one of her poems, she writes of being in Mexico, and the days start stacking up, and she says something something "emerge from the pale nets of sleep."
Some other words that found their way into my memory and quickly were:
the lawn of my childhood home (KL)
"When I enter a Yang poem, I have no idea how I'll exit it" (JY's introducer)
he could be a thief (JY)
smaller truths disappear against a larger one (not quite correctly quoted) (KL)
babies seasoned in orange spices (KL)
all earthly roads lead to war (JY).
I have many words steeping, waiting for me to nudge them towards some other words, north-to-south attractions dizzy with wordlust. I attended a lecture last night where Jeff spoke of his work as an editor/translator/poet in the publishing world and I was happy to see among the crowd classmates from three past workshop/class experiences. Euphoric might be a better descriptor. Which really oughta tell me something about where my passions point--they point to words, drunken words lollygaggingly staring up at me from the comfort of the floor.
I sat with one classmate/friend for tonight's reading, largely because we're both the sort of poets/observers who write frequently. Like while other people are talking. Like while other people are sleeping. It seemed right to sit elbow-to-elbow, journals flattened on laps, ascribble with both original thoughts and poems of others drifting in at odd angles.
There are some good tangents & possible narratives in the works. I'm going to sleep on them, for the most part, for the next handful of hours. Some more art this weekend, photos and some painting such as I do it. Some poetry, too, maybe a sculpture. Or some effusing about what comes knocking in the dark.
Winterlude 78-something-something
saturday night/morning & sunday day
Tucson & Pinal County, AZ / 1.28-29.12
Tucson & Pinal County, AZ / 1.28-29.12
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