The last few months have been tough, an enduring sequence of events that held me down like a lead vest. Luckily, everything is temporary.
Recently, I took a trip to my partner’s hometown in Maine, and it became sanctuary—slow, sweet, and full of warmth. Below are some photos from that time. Thank you to all the beings that looked after me, even you, Creature from the Black Lagoon. Tell Bigfoot I say hello.
Some new tunes for your ear holes, listen here
I have been having vivid dreams. They’re probably a measured response to the unrelenting nature of balancing all the things life puts in front of you — Or a consequence of too much sugar before bed.
There is a picnic table in the middle of the ocean. Bleached birch wood curving up at the ends towards the sun. I wade through waist-high water towards the table and sit down. As my weight comes down on the birch bench, it begins to bow, sound muffled by the crashing of waves. Clear tide gently sways against my sides, as the water comes to a point right above my knees, legs visible yet refracted. Looking out, there is only blue, where the ocean meets the sky, a slow gradient. My cast shadow meanders across the surface of the water.
At the center of the table is an oblong porcelain dish. There is a fish set atop the plate with deep emerald scales. The green is reminiscent of wet moss pressed against bark, nourished and rich after a heavy rain. Looking down, I meet its gaze, one striking yellow eye staring back at me diligently, with intent. I begin to sweat; slowly the beads trickle from the base of my neck down my back and join the sea. The eye dances, towards me and then stares blankly at the sun. Back and forth, all the while the heat against my neck remains, but the sweat seems to stifle. To me, then the sun. Gentle waves cool the tops of my legs as my knees occasionally breach the surface. With a deep breath, I avert my focus back out towards where the sky and ocean meet as their congress forms one singular blue. My toes curl and I feel sand beneath me.
New tunes, listen here
Links:
Psychiatrist answers questions from twitter
George Motz said hello to me at his new restaurant, and I swooned.
Secret Life by Theo Ellsworth, adapted from a short story by Jeff Vandermeer
I am wrestling with using this space as a catalogue of ideas and materials, and deciding how beholden I should be to a schedule. I intend to use this as a place to build momentum. To be open and vulnerable, and share different facets of my work. A mix of sketches, photographs, writing, and other things with the aim of providing insight into my practice.
This is a test run.
Richard Serra passed away on a Tuesday. The day before, my partner and I spent time at Dia Beacon, turning his work into monuments of our joy. Cosmic coincidences.
Went to the Bronx Zoo on an overcast day. In an exhibition navigating the growth stages of robins, there was a plaque describing the fictitious death of a hypothetical fledgling. This bird would never make it to be a juvenile, and as the placard read, “Died of pneumonia, became nourishment for spring flowers.” I spent a lot of time thinking about the things that reach out and tether us to the world - all the things we owe each other. When I was younger, I lived, for a time, a few blocks away from the zoo and would often go to a small park adjacent to the Bronx River entrance. I had an affinity for the park sprinklers. There were tulips in bloom near the Pelham Parkway 2 train station as we walked to the zoo that day. Thank you to the robin for giving us those flowers.
Made a playlist to coincide with this first segment. 10 songs that have been on repeat in the studio and have fueled, informed, and sustained me. Listen here.
links
Eddie Martinez Drawings by Triangle Books
This Coulter Jacobs video
