Sketchbookmaking at Centre College.
02.18.08 - Charlottesville, Virginia
My spot for today, in a park, in the sun, in the woods.
A full woodbox.
Lunch.
02.10.08 - Amherst, Virginia
These boxes contain dioramas. The balls are counterweights for the boxes. They hang on pulleys.
The boxes can be adjusted up or down to viewer height.
The tops are clear so that the viewer can see how the scene is constructed.
01.29.08 - Amherst, Virginia
Death by Lion, part I (Alice Elliot Dark)
Death by Lion, part II (Sarah Salway)
01.27.08 - Amherst, Virginia
The bears are back. Dusty said "don't worry", made me a funny little drawing of bears breaking into my airstream to eat my lunch, laughed at my fears. Look now, Dusty. Not so funny. They will have to cut open those bears to get the Barbara and David parts out.
10.20.07 - San Francisco, California
Two days of low-rider bicycle and beat-box, leather jacket sunglasses, cruising the sidewalk. Two women in a bar booth, smiling at the dog sitting across the table.
There is an Olafur Eliasson exhibition at SFMoma, dazzling with tricky light and space, creepy and lovely, mirrors and water vapor, a room full of maquettes from the studio. A video with the artist's studio full of carefully unkempt artists and people who talk about artists, expensive casual, a ring of modern chairs set up in a the woods for the conversation.
Super Taco and Ice Cream.
10.12.07 - Des Moines
An opening for a group exhibition in Des Moines at Olson Larsen. I projected on the street in front of the gallery.
09.07.07
Moving castle parked on a hill in moonlight, the South End Art Hop in Burlington with projections of old home movies.
07.21.07-07.28.07
Iowa and a temporary rolling community.
Each of our tiny towns is visible from a distance, a cathedral of grain elevator rising from green fields. Then in the central park is culture, pork princesses dressed in pink with tiaras and ribbons, home-made pies and cookies, music. In the shade with eyes closed there are multiple conversations blending and the flat-on-back release of not riding after riding for hours. Arrived, the showers might be at the fairgrounds, a converted cattle-washing station, or in the high school locker room, smallified by larger bodies. At night there are tent cities that cover the town, glowing-from-the-inside pods after dark, zombies walking to pee and the constant open and close of portable toilets. There are musical bands and lights and alcohol and dancing and rain on occasion pouring over it all. Mexican restaurants are packed with tequila drinkers and good eaters.
There is a late-night treacherous walk through the tents with invisible strings on stakes, no room for one misstep on wobbly legs, and then more riding a few hours later.
Flat northwest changes to curvy and hilly east, Grant Wood. Thousands of bikers spread across the day’s route, the pace of time lapse film, 8mm color, zooming in draft-lines on the left, a crawl on the right, an inchworm. There are watchers in lawn chairs on the route, families with children playing, sprinklers or garden hoses, squirtguns. The section of road through Amish land had curious mutual looking, families in simple clothes in front lawns looking at the spectacle, bikers stopped with cameras to record an anachronistic method of hay-gathering. A clothes-line of blues and greens, deep colors, floating. Gardens.
Perfect: a hill of corn growing in front of us, a grain elevator green-submerged up to the ship’s tower of ladders and tubes, a church glowing in the sun to the left, a tiny town down the hill. Bikes whir/whizzing. Sun and shade.
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