went into a store today
outside were two elaborate topiaries in pots
that turned out to be fake
the store was in an old bank
it was very hushed and it was very luxe
a woman appeared, all in black
asking if it was our first time there
on hearing yes, she proceeded to tell us
that the store sold handbags
very expensive handbage
made of exotic skins
and she kept repeating
ostrich and python and eel
over and over
like a mantra
and there were
handbags
everywhere
on shelves and tables
but very elegantly displayed of course
some of the furniture was for sale
as were some of the objects
along with the fine,and very beautiful jewelry
in the vault downstairs
but it was really about those handbags
and those skins
and the place stank of death
these are memories
this is a memory . . . it is also a polaroid . . . that i saw long ago
this is a memory . . . it is also a photo; . . . that i took last year
this is a memory . . . it is also an image . . . that i seem to have painted
these are memories . . . they are also reflections . . . of the present
this is a story about peas
they are shell peas
they are english peas
they come in the spring
childhood:
they are a shared delight for my family
they feel adult
we have found a candy
masquerading as a raw, green vegetable
and then
after just a few weeks
they disappear
and there is nothing that takes their place
we go forward into summer
my parents entertaining at the beach;
with the food
there is wine
in our sandy wet suits
we are not a part of this
we do not eat what they eat
we do not drink what they drink
but i watch
i am learning how to be an adult
years later:
i want to grow that magic
witness the promise of the pod
the pod, which over time
has become a much used
and somewhat abused
metaphor
that i rely on
as i wander through the tangle deep inside
struggling to reveal what i find
in a way that you can understand
t_l_v is that little voice
it is the voice inside your head
the voice that tells you
that you are forgetting something
as you walk out the door
without the address of the place you are going to
it is your peripheral vision
your sixth sense
the accident about to happen.
and in the studio it is
the essence
the essence of you
trying to get itself
into the work
any which way it can.
3 rules for the studio:
- there are no rules
- no judgment while engaged in process
- if it comes into your head; you must do it
obeying rule #3 is listening to t_l_v;
when you listen,
the voice grows stronger & stronger
when you don't,
it fades to a tiny whisper
it's important to listen.
nb:
t_l_v is also a project with brazilian artist fernando lopes
with whom i have had a continuous image dialogue since 2005.
on our shared flickr we upload images
latest image
spontaneously via cell phone
images which meet one criteria:
that we respond to that little voice
without question or censure.
