From Walter Darby Bannard’s Aphorisms for Artists:
Art is in the materials. Don’t look for it somewhere else.
When rhetoric elevates the spiritual over the material, art slips away and hides. As Oscar Wilde said, “The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.”
Good art makes the material and the spiritual the same thing.
Materiality is coming up. Both sides of it. That the material object is the whole thing. And that it is not the whole thing.
Sort of beside myself discovering Margaret and Christine Wertheim. Going to crochet me some hyperbolic structures. Embrace my subjectivity. And the domestic arts I was taught.
Turning point: when everything you thought was wrong is right. Everything you thought was bad is good. Everything you thought was Less Than is The Way.
Also reading: Rings of Saturn, with its catalogues of objects (some alive, some dead, some human, some not).
Feel so happy.
Neglected…a lot of half fledged insights lost. Walks disappear from memory. But not from maps. I mean Moves. There’s a park in Redding called Topstone, land bequeathed to the town by the photographer Edward Steichen. Thus the name “Steichen’s Pond.” (There is a typo in the map data.) I have memories of hiking and swimming there as a teenager. Briefly. And seldom. Free memories. I retraced those trails, and more. A few bugs, a few birds. Brown brown brown leaf-mulched surfaces. Lots of rocks. Blue water, and a nervewracking crossing on a cement walkway over a small dam between two ponds.
steichen’s pond, topstone park
I have a pwoermd name:
I like it.
Other names I have accidentally generated by unmindful use of the keyboard:
Traum m (genitive Traums or Traumes, plural Träume)
From Old High German troum, from Proto-Germanic *draumaz; akin to Low German Droom, Dutch droom, English dream, Danish drøm.
Two train dreams in succession last night.
1) our train came in to the station on a track like an airline runway, which ended abruptly over water. I was in the front car with a few indistinct family members. Unbelievably, the train car kept going over the edge and tilted down, nose in the water. I felt a bit of panic, but thought we could probably climb upwards holding onto the seats and get to the next car and safety.
2) possibly a continuation of the previous dream or maybe a new dream. I had to transfer from one train to another. I was with the same collection of indistinct family members. My belongings were all over the place and I realized I might miss the train. I struggled to collect my important items and started running. Various chaos, not having my purse or my sleeping bag – my partner had them, he was following me, but not moving quickly enough. I got my purse from him finally, on the run. I got to what looked like a platform outdoors, but didn’t see any train. I was yelling “Where’s the train? Where’s the train?” over and over. Someone waved me along and I ran down the plaza, around the corner, along a walkway, various people – train attendants? – waving me on. Meanwhile, my partner had stopped to pee and was way behind me. I hopped onto the train. I felt glad to be on it, and stood in the stairway, started using my iPhone. The train started to move, I was on it, but my partner had missed it.
International Pwoermd Writing Month starts tomorrow!
I’ll be posting pwoermds on tumblr.
For more pwoermdists, check out Geof Huth’s site, napwowrimo.blogspot.com/
For a description of pwoermd, and other interesting vocabulary, see http://dbqp.blogspot.com/2005/05/essential-vocabulary-30.html
Depth, character, maturity.
Sometimes I like a piece, or like MOST of it, but it lacks depth and character, or maturity. The only way to get it there is to keep going, and in this process the piece is sure to go through awkward stages that you “don’t like”. So… for me it’s important to withhold judgment. NOT look at it in terms of Do I Like It, but What Happens Next?
March 30 – morning snow shower – temperatures just above freezing.
Watching Werner Herzog’s “Happy People: A Year on the Taiga” over the weekend gave me a whole new appreciation for spring snow.
dwarf siberian iris