airplanes, trains, cars, and sunsets

untitled conversation

gallery, site

at an art gallery opening this weekend i discovered a small and quite powerful piece hanging in the first corner of the space. it spoke to me in a way i hadn't heard in some time. it made me realize...how important it is to share your jewels, the words that resonate and the pictures that feel, and not allow them to fall asleep in your mind, and then cease to exist in their magnitude. here is the artist statement:

Anthems of Empty

What happens when a memory ceases to be remembered? Does it no longer exist, or has it been corrupted into some form of the truth within the depths of consciousness. When memory fails the individual, what is left behind but a word, a partial thought, stories without text, songs without lyrics, anthems that are empty... like an old shack on the side of the road. The shell is mostly there, but the inside is gone and will never again be what it once was. My work is made up of these fragments of memory;
built up, pieces of a former whole, rearranged and layered together to make a new.

The action of writing on page leaves a mark, a scar, on the universe. Even if it is erased, it never is totally gone. It may change forms, but once made can not ever really be undone. Even time leaves a mark These scars left on people, on the universe, are not always visible. Sometimes they can only be seen when a portion remains and what was the whole is no more. Material deteriorates, paper yellows, an image fades unto a puff of smoke into the sky... to become some other memory in some other place. These pages from old books, some of which are so fragile it takes all the will in the universe to not have them crumble in my hands, they need something structural, because inherently they are on the verge of total ruin.

sarah e rehmer

shocked by honesty

found this in the woods while i was riding my bicycle. i love finding notes, it feels like i just met a new friend.

Alley

physical health, pain, emotional clutter

sifting through my carefully yet haphazardly packed boxes, my mom gets a phone call. my aunt is in the emergency room, she has had a mini-heart-attack. what a triage of words, and i wonder if they go together. the implied severity and the acuteness co-mingling in sentences. does that work? it doesn't matter, because we need to get there, and there is little time to think. and it is a welcome relief to focus on the needs of someone else right now.
when i see her she is in good spirits, because she is my aunt. i don't feel okay, but her faces reminds me that we are only human, and that laughter can be the best medicine. i try to smile with her, but it's overwhelming. she doesn't want a party so i kiss her and take my cousin home with me so he doesn't have to spend tonight alone.
i slowly return to sorting out some clutter in my personal earth attic, cutting through fog, dense trees, and thick water. we are not alone in this world, but when the boxes are stacked so high, it's hard to see the people standing on the other side sometimes.
this is the second time today i have been in a hospital. it's time to get some sleep.

dunk tank

right after this picture was taken i got clocked in the throat with a fast flying softball. i woke up on the ground with a circle of people standing over me.