[little houses] = transitions>>across borders. studio as community. studio as home.

art as language. silence is a language. is it enough to sit and look out the window at snow melting.

4x20 blackbirds circle above for their piece of the pie.

CONTAINED >> houses as containers. bodies as containers. [today we meditated blue].

making room. building a home. little houses made from cardboard. build a city in your cubicle. [i will fill my space for you if this is what pleases you].

Kitchen conversations weave gently into daytime. the morning sun has degree-ed its way to another fractional point in the sky. i’m taking photographs of my reflection in the window [PROCESS PHILOSOPHY]. photographic remnants of practice.

the quieted space, enters afternoon, neighbours labour with restlessness.


and now night fall.

i hear human sounds from somewhere else in the house. each nook and cranny occupied by an artist or by things by which to make art. music machines.

today i moved a pot plant to my studio and did a drawing of Natsuki the Japanese composer.

in the room next door Albert finishes his novel and drinks small cups of dark drip coffee from morning until night. today we’ve meditated twice already.

sometimes snow falls inside. i’ve seen it with my very own eyes. the snow fall is like a ‘ssshhhh’ on the edge of my window.

RESEARCH>>borders, archive.

things in the works. placing words. making words. the reading of an interior (and still it snows).

Even her name has a little wildness to it. (Virginia Woolf). The French call dusk the time “entre le chien et le loup,” between the dog and the wolf, [...] While there are many Woolfs, mine has been a Virgil guiding me through the uses of wandering, getting lost, anonymity, immersion, uncertainty, and the unknown.
— Rebecca Solnit, Men Explain Things to Me. Haymarket Books, 2014.