some folks believe in spirits, others in therapy. others, yet, in both. and that's what we have here: in this session of In Treatment, Gabriel Byrne and Dianne Wiest sit facing each-other. the screen-shot is of a *paused cut from one character to the other. through the simultaneous presence, or co-emergence of faces in the paused view, the characters overlap for a fraction of time. who exactly is fading, in this frozen moment, is unclear. Byrne appears to be dozing off, while an ethereal, perhaps ghostly Wiest emanates from him, or enters him. one body, one mind.
it's probably good not to get too much in a patient's head - or a therapist's.
and it occurred to me just then, that what was lacking in our urban captivity was the sense, the true, unquestioned and immediate sense, of boundless space... the Bob Dylan Mental Sanity Institute Camp @ JuPlaya was a direct experience of this.
Honesdale, Pa.: there were days when the Great American Divide was more apparent - rainy days, for instance - it weighed you down, like gravity gone 10fold. at other times, it was smalltown bliss all over again.
1. very brief concerto for pot lids # 1 adaggio ma non troppo (Background sounds provided by my father opening a closet)
2. you want a toe / I got a toe Recording inspired by the real-life encounter with Kirk, a Wayne County, Pa. resident who may or may not really talk that way, and who may have said such a thing (including its repetitions) had he watched "the big lebowsky" a ridiculously large number of times. This would have caused him to quote dialogues from the movie at rather random and not entirely infrequent moments of his shady - some might say questionable - existence.
if u listen to Blind Willie Johnson playing and humming "Dark Was The Night, Cold Was The Ground" you might get that sense of time stretching, or standing still. a hot day, in the South. a creaking old porch - dusty and all that. Blind Willie dressed impeccably. a man of faith. that's it, there's nothing much else to say. 1927...
and then there's Blind Boy Fuller, Blind Willie McTell, Blind Blake... is everybody blind???
"whitnial" (*kl), below this post, is the brain child of the Whitney Museum in Manhattan and its famed Biennial. a contraction of sorts.
i ordered a new camera. a Nikon, basic point and shoot. and that's precisely the point: and shoot. arrives by April 15th - B&H has a pretty hefty passover holiday.
from then on be ready for 2 or 3 developments from the eYe-Marshall hanger: the actual photographic work, the textual, and more volume, installation-based pieces (including works by Ben Litzky and Boodhi C. McNunn, key figures of the Arizona and California avant-guard renaissance).
thanks for your patience & for being a valued member of the marsh :)
and my fat drunk uncle who'll sleep in my room tonight (on the floor). it's cool / not weird. done it before. talks in his sleep though. a lot. stuff about being orange + filled with water - and useful at burning man. whatever. right now he's in the passenger seat. asleep (he always is). big ass weight shifting dangerously towards me in these redwood turns. i secure him with a bungee cord.