Wednesday, December 29, 2010

The Heroic vs The Humble


Simon Hughes, Father/Daughter Composition, 2009

"She was only 18 months old when she did it and she's two and a half now... The wierd thing is she never did a scribble quite that good again." --Simon Hughes in Border Crossings


Rather productive winter break (clean clean clean apt, bags of clothes to take out). Snow falls outside after a few mild days. This morning cat chases tissue paper mewling out her abandonment issues while I read Border Crossings, an article about gardens and the avant garde and theories of work/art/absence/silence/etc, story about bears.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Train track sounds

LoopLoop from Patrick Bergeron on Vimeo. Will be at Neutral Ground end of January, looking forward. 2011! The future!

You are an animal now

Leafcutter John from Antje Taiga on Vimeo.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Calendar

Ridiculously busy, despite the headache about to head out for 3rd night in a row: Mercury for grilleds and gossip followed by A Bout de Souffle at the RPL; Jeannie Mah & Jack Anderson Reception/Panel at the Dunlop folllowed by Godard Project shorts by Filmpool; finally tonight Curtain Razors at Neutral Ground after a Saturday in the office/gallery.

My hour of you, my cursive thoughts, a pulpit beating under these ribs --Sina Queryas again

Friday, December 3, 2010

Spine like a seahorse

To arrive is practice, conversation or conversion, a story over a field
My Sweet, of concrete or whispering, furrows of a path no longer, not
Sure, was there, and snow combed in curlicues and dog ears a zigzag
Through January. Sure you are witty, but are you any less romantic?
In my remembering, I have undone all my beliefs, it is a luxury to lay
Unencumbered here, or there, the bones flexed with tendons, the
Spine like a seahorse, the heart far from a cliche unless beating is
Innocent, though innocence is not as supple as you think, nor as flexible,
Nor as perfumed, nor convenient, or even clean: between things regret
Gathers force. I remember that day: it was cold and the coffee tepid.

excerpt, "Euphoria" Sina Queyras at poetryfoundation.org