blaming it all on the sun

Tue, 9 Dec 2008 23:46:54 -0700

I have fallen onto genuine Japanese futons, my body has rested above forgotten graves and these eyes have woken to the sun peeking over the midwestern plains from a rattling train, and if it weren’t for photos I would entirely lose all memory of these miraculous moments.

It was often that wherever I would go a collection of photos, cards and other small souvenirs would follow and eventually fix themselves in an abstract manner to a wall. Now nothing but adhesives keep them together as they lie hidden in old Converse boxes and plastic bags. It’s a bit of a tear-jerker, and I blame it on my inability to be dedicated to any one living space for too long.

Every once in a while we all venture somewhere we forgot about, and there rests all the reminiscence of what has shaped who we are today. In that moment there are some things we decide to leave behind and set aside for the garbage. After sorting through everything and experiencing butterfly after butterfly in our stomachs, we return it to where we protected it, with exceptions. And as we hover over the abyss of time, we glance once (or twice or thrice) more at images, letters or whatever helps us recollect to decide if this absence is really what we want for ourselves.

Today offered the first proof of the season that winter is actually passing by. Even at its minimal impact, I was thrown back into my last days of Lyon where I was grasping for any sense of my life before the year came to an end. A year later I almost feel positioned the same, except now love and family (includes C&M) are stabilized to my content. It’s a good feeling to have some solid form, especially in contrast to my past.

Yet I’m in that mood right now. That attitude that defies any responsibility during late hours and begs for a trip to the pawn shop for low-budget traveling through a far foreign land. This is never fulfilled, but just the idea of such a sudden satisfaction turns my stomach, makes my heart beat and my mind melt. And a deep breath.

I wish I had the creativity and natural understandings of Andy Goldsworthy, the vision and tenderness of Tadao Ando and the experiences of David Brown. We all start somewhere, and even a figure as great as Beethoven had his stages of life before becoming recognized as an innovative individual. My legs are searching for a direction to walk in, but I suppose when sitting cross-legged the possibility is inhibited. I’m getting up now.

just a skeleton asleep among the stars

Fri, 28 Nov 2008 20:15:27 -0700

Something about the combination of 32,000 feet and 500 big miles per hour really can make one reflect.

I’m mid-air right now, voyaging over “where-everything-is-bigger” Texas and enjoying all Brazzaville has to offer. The jaunt to North Carolina was nice, and almost none of my stereotypes were met. Granted the accent had a good clean shot at my ear once or twice, everything else seemed typical. And except for a church on every corner and the absence of breakfast burritos from gas stations, the landscape is what caught my attention: hills, trees and leave galore. Oh, and just as I told Chelsea and Robbie, I’m sure the driving there has rules, they just must be layered under the abstract road construction and driver attitude.

Most of the time was spent with Chelsea, Robbie and Kate, reliving just as we did in Lyon; complete with cheap red wine. Though, as weird as it was, the realization of who they were didn’t kick in until the last 24-hours. Sure, they are friends, but exactly who are they? I spent months with them in a foreign land and we definitely became teary-eyed when we had to part from each other, but I guess there is still a truant, conscious reasoning.

It’s an ineffable thing, the connection between people. We’re family, we’re friends, we’re strangers to each other, and though these words define it, that feeling within complicates any attempted generalization of something so deep and personal. It tends to be something we just feel and I suppose that’s why when I first said, “these are your friends from Lyon” when I saw them that it didn’t make complete sense. However, after just being around them for a while, whether conversing or in silence, it all came together. Still, I can’t explain it, but I know it’s there.

That makes sense for everything though. It’s the reason one can’t simply toss paint on canvas and claim it art, or travel to Paris and say they experienced it. We can define it as such, but something still lacks. The curiosity, thoughts and ability to provoke are the characteristics, I believe, that give such value and worth to anything that appeals to us. Something that inspires us to think, be curious and interpret through our unique perception – how incredible.

Alas, I return to where I started. The plane has not only provided me with a means of traveling from point A to point B, but has risen me to a new world where I can stare out this window and ponder what lies beyond that distant horizon. And I guess that’s where I am at right now: wondering what is waiting for me past the melting of sky into land.

Or is it land into sky?

Below are moments from the trip. Enjoy.

STUDIOELEVEN

blaming it all on the sun

just a skeleton asleep among the stars