Funny thing, crossing over.
I've been in Leipzig for a number of days now, working rock solid day after day on probably my biggest construct/installation piece... the interweb connexion is dodgy at best; no real FB updates, no chit chat, no coolness constants of keeping constant vigil over posts and such-- a relief, actually. I'm covered in canal slime, mud, dirt, and the detritus of a night of post show celebration--did an action on a delapidated half-bridge with ten or so invitees and we attempted to fish ( results were hilarious, tell you later at some point! ); the head is a fuzzy logic woolly bug with all the odd-duck strands-- all the attempts to visualize things that've been happening-- beh, I'll just give up trying to focus on the finites! Working, playing, but defiantly and definitely mostly working... it's glorious, I mean, to be engaged full mind/body/hands with pals in a far away place. Micha, my friend and gallery curator, has been almost a Siamese twin to the day-to-day functions. We work, sleep, conceptualize, go to the lake, get back to work, haul ass. I think to myself: why do we fritter all this time doing the absolute LAST thing in the world we want to be doing? Not now, but whenever I sail back home--- always the same life in slow cycling troughs, not nor never ever rising up to... well? To full on. I know you two are at it, Molly & Jayray. I just throw the question out there, asking and wondering why it's so easy to forget... once home.
(eyes used for tooth support)
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