pics from the trip

picture a mystery

Polaroids were everywhere. No pictures, just exposed film. Shadows and light gave some sense of shape, but there was no organization, no line, only an impression. The work had to have been done in the dark. Each one set on the floor or the wall or the ceiling. Zhe must have started there so as not to disturb the groundlings. Had there been a remote or something to turn on the lights? Maybe it was a surprise, the artist caught in hir by her own work in the midst of creation. It seemed likely. The ceiling and upper-wall ones had a controlled chaos, but everything within reach of an average adult arm seemed had landed in its current place by sheer accident. Self-destruction or struggle? That is the question.

I really don't know where this came from, but I kind of want to try this art piece. However, I would have to do it in my bathroom. It's the only place where it could get dark enough to set everything.

the week of working on it

This week will be a week of posts that are in their beginning stages. I have two stories so far that have had just a little bit of work. Some stop suddenly because I either ran out of time or out of brain for them (that means I hit a wall - the story is coming but it's not in the language part of my head yet). Some are trite. I tend to need to get that out before I can really work a piece. I think some are currently in a form that they aren't suited for. So crazy times. And for crazy times, I'm giving you this picture I took while on my way to a coffee shop on Saturday.

Yep. That's a spoon. There's definitely a story there.