We were making aquariums out of materials that, while they looked appropriate, were perhaps not sturdy enough. There were three or four parts comprising each coffin-sized plexiglas case, but occasionally the filtration system was sending surges of too much water upwards at times, and we were concerned about leaving them in a room, filter on,… Continue reading On drawing maps for cephalopods
In the ellipses between drops of rain In the space between pale night’s end and grey morning I find you. I find forgotten things. Between lines of writing in the pages of books yellowing in drawers and on shelves, In the leathery slips between their bindings— And in the spaces between the notes of songs… Continue reading Spaces
When I woke I discovered my heart cast shadows longer than dreams in places where we moved as children, cured of fear, and never looked back. Sometimes when I wake I write down my dreams, or the bits I can remember. If I wake with the territory intact, I map it. The drawings are invariably simple, as… Continue reading Cartography of the subconscious
Unintentionally patriotic feet, in tertiary variations on red and blue. A friend recently asked what art I've been working on, and my answer was, sadly, none. I'm feeling a need to do something so I return to the blog—I do enjoy writing. Maybe it will spark something. Independence Day yesterday; a barbecue on a friend’s… Continue reading The fleeting nature of dreams and summer
It is time to obtain a coffee-maker equipped with the ingenious ability to be set up and programmed before sleep, as, with the arrival of autumn, dreams have returned, en masse. Little matter what time I go to bed (nor how much or little I may read before actually going to sleep)– in the morning,… Continue reading The irresistible tide of dreams
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 