wednesday.

on wabash near washington.

y = mx + b.

tuesday.

self-portrait.

we're staring at a pyramid.  someone says my breath smells better.  a little boy and his mother ring the door bell.  he drops and breaks the tea-pot as they enter.  i'm swimming in a lake in the basement.  the phone rings.  i'm hiding.

monday.

near pearl and front streets.  brooklyn.

full of juice; juicy.

sunday.

wind.

i'm looking forward to this week.

saturday.

alley.

moving my favorite body part.

friday.

tube.

as you say, you notice these things, and they puzzle you, and you love them. it is a very exciting subject.

-pina bausch.

thursday.

bridge.

there's nine of us all together.  i'm the last to take a shower.  i'm in a small convenience store while i wait.  i'm on the phone.  the conversation is positive and then turns ugly.  the connection's not great.  i worry.

wednesday.

hallway.

open the gate.  unlock the door.  check the mail.

tuesday.

grand and milwaukee.

we'll be picked up in four minutes.  all we want is a little sip of something.  my clothes are stained with spots from the perfume.  i quickly rush around and try to change.

monday.

lights.

sprinting through hay & dragging gold beads.

sunday.

blue.

we turned the thriving half of the hanging plant around.

saturday.

balcony.

i made a new drawing!  finally.

friday.

reaching.

i carry a fifteen pound weight across the room.  i push on the back of my head to stretch my neck.  i crouch down to the floor and explode upward with a jump. 

thursday.

an old wall.

it's snowing.

wednesday.

clues.

the warm weather was today's reason for wandering.  guess there's a bunch of abandoned cars and piles of old machinery just to the east of the home deeps on elston. i was a detective for a couple of minutes.  i looked hard at things.  i felt young.  

tuesday.

rockaways.

we ran and filmed our shadows.  we tried to shoot the moon. 

monday.

three feet.

we both.

sunday.

rock wall.

thinking about accumulation, things that glow and things that melt.  tomorrow we start on the movie.  shrimp and wine and a sleepover.

saturday.

sweet bread.

i'm in the front of the rabbit.  the window's down.   the air smells of deep fried chicken, walgreens and i94.  there's a long line for the red box.  i slide two fingers against my scalp in a search for scales and wait.  

friday.

logan boulevard.

sometimes the streets look like paintings.

thursday.

basement.

most things i worry about never happen anyway.

-tom petty.

wednesday.

underneath and in between.

i need to take a long walk.

tuesday.

used things.

i'm ready to start a new project.

monday.

the sky.

about an hour before the sun sets, there's this specific kind of lighting.  it fills me with an energy difficult to describe in words.  the feeling makes me curious to know more about everything around and inside of my body.

tuesday.

sunrise.  1924.

i can claim no background except perhaps the woods, running streams, hunting, fishing, camping, the sky.

-arthur dove.

saturday.

light from an ambulance.  shadow from a tree.

nervous energy.

friday.

hanging.

sometimes the light from the sun hits the side of the window in the morning.  the colors shift and deepen.  i like to watch them move around.

thursday.

zoom.

its in between the storm and window panes.  i've never watched one this close up before.  it strokes its wings with its front legs after licking them.  it slams against the glass and makes a teeny sound. 

tuesday.

state and congress.

arts with the brain in mind, the elusive obvious, teaching to change the world, the evolving self, and movement education: child development through body motion.  all overdue books have been returned.  i'm on a break.

sunday.

inside and out.

the whistle blew and i pushed off.  ahh!  is it the dolphin crawl?  the butterfly stroke?  this pool is huge!  i'm quickly left in the dust and doggy paddle my way to the other side.  i'm wearing my thick winter jacket.  a trainer comes over and in a dark, scary, and  disappointing voice asks, "well, did you even put your swim cap on?"  my response: "i'm sick!  i thought i could do it!  i know i'm a nobody but i still love to swim!"  she walks me to the locker room and i'm left alone with a million screaming children.

saturday.

thorndale redline stop.

how do people make a relationship to knowledge?  how is a desire for learning engaged?

friday.

here i am.

i was tight rope walking on a narrow wooden pier that went this way and that way and way way out into the ocean.  i spilled some of whatever it was i eating onto my borrowed turquoise dress.  the stain had been marked with a white circular sticker.  a miniature five spot, no bigger than the tip of a fingernail, flew through the air like a feather and then landed on the wing of a crow.   

thursday.

milwaukee art museum.

physical literacy: a disposition acquired by human individuals encompassing the motivation, confidence and physical competence that establishes purposeful physical activity as an integral part of their lifestyle.

wednesday.

window.

although heavily stimulated by what’s happening all around me, i’m alone in my thoughts while in the loop.  it’s this giant mass of people, lights, busses, and shops with a million smells and sounds and still it feels like an in between place to me.  something I need to get through in order to be where i’m supposed to be.  perhaps it’s an over-stimulation and my mind’s way of evening things out is a turn inward. 

tuesday.

laurey and tim's.

i'm slowly becoming more confident while speaking in front of a group of people.

monday.

under water (zoo).

...but at night i'd had these wonderful dreams some kind of sensuous treat not zucchini, fettucini or bulgar wheat but a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat...

-cheeseburger in paradise lyrics.

(my brain is in a tornado)

saturday.

carving: a traditional sculpture. eleanor antin. 1972.

it is only through doubt that one can question the differences between thoughts and things, between the adequacy of symbolization and the experiences of objects in the world, and between feelings and perceptions.

-deborah britzman.

(this is sort of a comment on the experience of hanging this piece in the modern wing as well as a quote i'm using in a paper i'm currently writing about the neccesity for making space in education for doubt.)

friday.

heat.

worries, doubts and wild thoughts.

thursday.

accurate biometrics.

when a sight, sound, movement, or place attracts your attention during your daily life, consider that moment an “art experience”.  find a way to record an impression of this momentary “art experience” using any appropriate means or media.  share these experiences with each other and make them available to others.

-open field (1980), pauline oliveros.

tuesday still?

rinse.

just wrote my first lesson plan.  re-thinking places: using found objects & movement gestures to create meaningful spaces. found some pretty cool artists for inspiration: justin cabrillos, alan & michael fleming, and VALIE EXPORT.  this is all very exciting.

monday.

piles.

overwhelmed.

sunday.

underground.

i was being buried in an object, becoming plastic; imagining and extending my surfaces, creating mystery around my own body, trying to reveal hidden aspects. melting, merging, being absorbed, crossing, penetrating in a physical, plastic sense. being part of an image all of a sudden slows you down, puts you in another kind of time.

-meg stuart.

saturday.

layers.

i just need to get started.

friday.

you.

he came late into the party with 2 pomeranians and asked if i could watch them.  these little things were like neon eyeballs or spiders or eggs.  they would puff themselves up and dance these little dances and i ended up losing one.  a dog in the ocean.  my grandfather asks me to gather up all of the chairs from 3 floors below us.  i'm in a messy room repacking a bag.  i listen to a voicemail message from a lady with a lot of money.  she's upset i killed her dog.  she just wants to know what happened.  i struggle to remember.  i think i've been set up.

thursday.

on milwaukee near kedzie.

where am i from?  where am i going?

wednesday.

ceiling & ground.

i'm paying attention to what i am resistant to.

tuesday.

blue line.

reality created out of illusions.  who's writing this story?

monday.

backyard.

i can finally feel the sun on my leg.

sunday.

the magic cottage.

over the weekend.  up in wisconsin.  absinthe, diet pepsi, turkey and stars.

wednesday.

monroe & dearborn.

i held the sliding doors with my foot for as long as i could.  next stop.  belmont.  this time he was shirtless.  c'mon!!  still nothing.  addison.  i got off.  he stayed.  i ran into the old women. they were busy making a pot of chili to keep him warm on his long train ride.  frisbee golf, hills, a mansion a mile away.  who was this young person?