The bamboo is now attached to the walls.

In keeping with my aesthetic/style some of it is askew. I did not want to create a cage. In tying the bamboo to the wall I started experimenting with making loops. I became interested in the way the twine interacts with the minimalist bamboo green. I used red, blue, yellow twine—primary colors. Way back a printmaking teacher told me not to give the three primary colors equal weight in a composition, and so of course I began making compositions using the three primary colors. The best of those is a monoprint, which I perhaps will find a photo of and upload.

When I saw the looped twine in the 3 primary colors, I was reminded of bridles hanging in a tack room. Smell the horse sweat.

I also experimented with ways to position the glass balls. I want them to be movable by the audience, and yet stable.

This experiment is not very stable. The gash in the bamboo upright troubles me, not esthetically but because it seemed to wound the plant. The bamboo is dying, but I don’t think it yet knows it is.

I don’t take responsibility for injuring the bamboo, the consciousness that is me is the same as the consciousness of the bamboo.

Its in a place.

made of stuff

cut, tied up, lugged, moved from there to here or here to there, depending on your perspective

cutting and transporting the bamboo was a major physical undertaking. Since 1998 I have been doing mental things almost exclusively.

cars and carts involved

A stile is an opening in a fence that is not a gate.

Narratives

I’m thinking of this “real” world as the play of consciousness.  Consciousness itself is invisible, outside of time and space. Therefore my attempts to make objects which represent it are doomed to failure. But I’m doing it anyway.

I’m using installation as narrative. Right now there is an emergent storyline of balance-imbalance, trees as beings of consciousness, surmounting obstacles, and precarious glass spheres. Consciousness is not fragile in the least, but its creations are ephemeral. A sledgehammer lurks among glass spheres. Juxtaposed contradictions. I haven’t decided whether the glass spheres will be secured so they don’t break, or in imminent danger of falling.

The obstacle will be a stile at the doorway. A low one, with a teeter-totter to negotiate.  Enter at your own risk.

1/11/13

Installations play with time as well as space, putting objects together that are not connected in the natural world. I intend to perform the art as I always do, only the performance will be preserved. It always is preserved, even in marble. What else is Michelangelo’s David? Why then?

I do not perform this art to make anyone feel any way. You are how you are. I am who I am.  Whatever that is. Consciousness. I do this art to play.

The room, I saw the closet that will be art. I wanted to inhabit it, curl up in a blanket. I measured it, sketched it.  The door is 40” wide jamb to jamb. I will stay in there, do more sketches. Play music in it. Sing and dance. It’s very small. How odd. I’m dealing with how claustrophobic I feel in my life and I’m working in a little closet. I think it’s 72” long. It has a window covered with brown paper. I see work spilling out of the closet into the room.