how i learned to carry railroad ties

the day before my sister's wedding, i went to menards and purchased three railroad ties. i thought they'd fit in the back of my brother's minivan, but when i tried to close the trunk after two burly guys with a forklift placed them there, i realized they would not.

in august i helped a friend move, and so she helped me move railroad ties. the two of us huffed and puffed three ties about twenty feet. they were in the middle of my studio floor, and they looked like they'd never move again.

when i set up the project in the gallery at studio arts, i convinced three friends to help me put them on a dolly and place them in the space. we did it, but i dropped one of the ties on my hand. not so fun.

then i watched this

before i had to take the show down today. i moved all the ties by myself, with ease. i stacked them neatly in my studio. after moving two, i called in my friend derek. he thought i wanted help. i wanted him to watch to prove that i could do it. they're neatly stacked in the corner. nice.

now the gallery is super clean, repainted even.

images of the project (poor images) online here.

Jesse James: New Project

I've been ranting about Jesse James too much in the last little bit. Here is a mostly done draft of an audio piece about him.

Take a listen.

devouring

" 'Read,' or 'Eat! Swallow!' the book that is given to you. And we never stop (speaking of) devouring books, whether they taste bitter or sweet, of honey or poison."

Jean-Luc Nancy, "On the Commerce of Thinking: Of Books and Bookstores."

prep

my studio is a mess. if you can believe it, it is worse than this photograph. now i have a stack of cut plywood and photographs, an overhead projector and a stack of cottonwood branches. ugh.

sara and dan

my sister got married. and there were a million pictures.

and now my fridge has more cake than should be legal.

Iowa Iowa Iowa

I moved to Iowa City, Iowa more than two months ago now, but it seems that I have been out of town every time something great has been going on here. And so, Iowa City still feels like I don't know it. This weekend changed that, at least in part.



Works in Progress arts festival for in progress works happened Thursday through Saturday, with Lucky Dragons as the 'keynote.' The whole conference was magical, and I think that in many ways, WiP's byline: "providing artists with a forum for presenting works-in-progress to a discerning, yet sympathetic, public" is the ideal for a conference. Every time I walk away from one, I want to rework what I've presented anyhow, but the future tense of the comment section was nice. The work ranged from things I was really interested in to the absurd to the boring, but the structure helped. Kendra Greene collected punchlines, which she read (without the jokes). Katie McGowan talked about brain respiration, the latest craze. Josh Eklow talked about buying a gun, and then Charlton Heston showed up with the Strawman and Mudwoman from Sudden Brick Works. None of these can I completely understand or explain, but they were damn nice and funny and great.

Lucky Dragons came on -- Luke Fishbeck -- and he created a prayer circle bizarre performance situation. Wires wrapped in colored yarn, stones used to create magnetic sound fields, the whole audience worked together led by Luke to make something, and I think we all left feeling more connected (sometimes physically, through the noise our bodies made when touching contact microphones and inputs).

Today, Josh and Derek and their ladies went to the flee market with me in the backseat. We wandered around the town, What Cheer, Iowa looking for goodies. I found a plate with a buffalo on it, some bowls that are the same as some my grandfather had when I was a kid, and some funnel cake. Then I took some apples off a nearby tree and we drove home.




See yonders fields of tasseled corn, Iowa in Iowa,
Where plenty fills her golden horn, Iowa in Iowa,
See how her wonderous praries shine.
To yonder sunset’s purpling line,
O! happy land, O! land of mine, Iowa, O! Iowa.

Exploring