Semi-filtered scribbles calling attention to the smaller more intimate details and the mediocre honesty in The Befores, The Beginnings, The Goings, and Durings, The Wanderings and The Returns.
-Scottish man between cigarettes to fellow Scottish friend
I've drafted the same letter over and over, to still get tongue-tied as I trip over all the roads ahead, and between us. Lately, as I rounded out the last few weeks at my 9-5 I'm asked what's happening next... What will I do for work? (my 2 other part-time jobs for now while hopefully selling a painting here and there)... Where will I go? (somewhere warm and desolate) And before I can answer, I feel my eyes glass over, and my mind race a million miles on the hamster-wheel... while my mouth curves into a smile and I awkwardly dance through my options - I'M GOING TO NEW MEXICO I'M CLIMBING (ANOTHER) MOUNTAIN (MAYBE THE SAME ONE AS LAST YEAR) I'M GOING TO DESIGN CLOTHING I'M GOING TO EXCHANGE "ART" FOR "MONEY" I'M GOING TO MAKE SOME (HOPEFULLY) COOL FUCKING SHIT - I am stamped as clearly unstable (accepted) and quite possibly irrational (also accepted). I get defensive, and then I find... I don't hear a thing - as someone asks where I want to be in 5 years... What is my dream? I shrug. "Who cares?"
Only my closest friends can tell you that in the long run I want to have my own gallery, my own shop with foreign jewelry, local art, forgotten clothing and out-of-date music... and have been shunned aside as someone who doesn't understand how much money that costs but doesn't make. Silly girl, I asked you for what you want, not what you want. HA! ... perhaps I don't want as much as I deserve too...
I wonder how I felt very early on I'd rather be called unstable than someone who doesn't know money... in the meantime I've wondered why no one asks Who do I dream of being? Who do you dream of being? Someone who saves and saves, but says they have the rest of their lives to go somewhere? What about being someone... or someone who makes enough, but runs away every chance they get? What is actuallyenough... Could there be a balance? I sure hope so, because that's what I'm kind of banking on. I don't want to be just happy. I want to be fucking ecstatic. I want to further understand struggle. And I want to stay hungry.
So I keep my promise to head east for the Brooklyn Invitational (and to roll around in kittens and wine) and find myself beyond inspired by men who glide instead of walk, who are more resourceful than your average raccoon, and that are suckers for romantic comedies.
Silk City, Philadelphia
September 18, 2015
10:23AM
Somewhere in Brooklyn
I applaud the people who believe in forever. I don't mean to put that down... but if you believed in yourself - and not the inspirational 90s posters hanging in your high school counselors office - but believed in yourself - your very being... would you acknowledge the expiration date? And NOT in the way where you blow all your hard earned cash - by no means do I mean that! but would you consider giving away all your things and challenge yourself to thrive somewhere new? Give back to a community, create shitty art that fulfills your soul. Could you remember to tell that person you love them? But most importantly, take some time for yourself... My best friend and I quote a book so often, I see that now we might just be trying to justify our forever-discontent with being just okay... I will spare you any more half-asleep conversation and leave all this mumbling here:
Everybody knows they're going to die, but nobody believes it. If we did, we would do things differently.
Hope you enjoyed these shots... because I was drunk and/or hungover while shooting.
"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've encountered to help me make the big choices in life because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - all these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important"
-Steve Jobs
Left Kirksville around 830AM, the earliest in the last 3
weeks cutting through Illinois passing by Chicago.About 6 hours in, just a little over 3 hours away from
Detroit Kellen found a brewery not to far off to stop at.The street looked fucking deserted, and
there was just the faintest Open sign in the window of Tapestry Brewery –
barely 2 years old.The beer was
actually pretty good, and the sandwiches on point… but remember, it’s a van of
starving animals, spiritually and physically.Anyway, we
discovered they weren’t shittin you when they call Chicago the windy city.Honestly the whole fucking state
was out of control, and while I had the windows down because the van was
boiling hot near Lucas and Tyson in the back- I felt
like I was getting punched in the face.It was a different kind of wind compared to the Teton
Mountains where I was hanging my head out of.I was holding onto my sunglasses flapping against my face, yelling to Tyson that I was
getting punched in the eyes.
Once the wind stopped bitch-slapping me, we arrived at Flint, Detroit (930PMish) all four of us
sprawling onto the floor… til Lucas’ 7AM flight back to San Diego.
The next day… or for Kellen, 5 hours later, we headed for Southfield to see our friend Chelsea at her and her boyfriends new house that they were renovating themselves. She used to live in the city and never really thought she’d end up out in the suburbs, but as it’s gentrifying and real estate is so low, I could see how that may happen.
Had lunch at Mudgie’s, a rad lil artisan sandwich place with a handful of craft beers and a grip of wine selects.Then Chelsea took us to The Heidelberg Project, found on Detroit's East side, a community art installation containing "trash", recycled material, and found objects.
Had only read an article on this art installation years ago, created amongst homes that have been burned down or abandoned... and I didn't know I was talking to the actual artist until... well, when I was talking to the actual artist, Tyree Guyton. He was in the middle of a conversation with his family, all laughing around a small dining table on a sidewalk covered in dots and faces, and so he said to look around some more and come back in 5 minutes. I did another lap around and came back with Chelsea, Kellen, and Tys, where he raised his arms and asked if there was an artist in the group.
"Ah, me", I said
"Well, I gotta pick your brain about somethin"
"Okay"
"WHAT IS ART", asked Tyree
... without hesitation I said
"feelings"
"what else"
"sounds"
"what else"
"well at this exact moment for me... pain" (ah yah, cliche artist adjective, eat your heart out, cause we all know it's true)
And with that, Tyree took a pen and wrote on a piece of scrap metal next to him
LIFE
"Art. is. life. Art is life to me", he says, hitting his chest with a fist that I could feel vibrate through my own and everyone else's... continuing on with the neighborhood, the project; when he started the art installation, how he felt, and what he wanted to build out of the community, and most importantly the change of Detroit for the better. Then he asks for any questions, and Kellen asks
"What's with all the clocks?"
"WHAT IS TIME?" whispers Tyree... I put it in all caps, cause even though it really wasn't that loud, it sure as hell felt like an exclamation of excitement.
"What do you want to do with yo time?" he continues...
We four think for a hot minute, and I blurt out,
"Time is forever"
"...and?"
"And it is nothing"
"...and?" And I can't for the life of me 4 days later remember the next couple minutes of that discussion. All I know is that time speculated around us as I watched his arms wave in circles and reach up towards the sky as he made sure all four of us that time was there. Next I asked,
"Why all the taxis?"
"WHERE DO YOU WANT TO GO IN LIFE?" he whispers again
"Far away"
"Then you go girl" or something like that, as he points behind me, and conveniently there is a suitcase with a huge circle drawn around it on the sidewalk.
(fuuh)
So, he learns we have driven all the way from California, and he says
"Document it all, take pictures, record your ventures"... something like that
"Oh yeah, that's what she's for!", said Tyson pointing at me
"OOOOH -enter relatives name- DIDN'T I TELL YOU GOD WAS A WOMAN?!" Tyree (for real Caps-lock this time) yelled behind him. The table laughed, and said-relative goes "Naaw, God's a hermaphrodite" more laughter following... I don't reckon any of us knew what that was about, but it rang through the yards.
He thanked us all for stopping by and for spreading the words to our friends, and then again for stopping by and learning.
Personally, I couldn't leave just yet, so I turned back around and asked him when he was born. And then I asked him, What day is was he discovered why. Did he feel it? Was he told it? He looked down at me and thought he already said... but then simply said "Today". And, I'm not sure what came over me... although, I had been feeling it for a couple days... but he took off his glasses and looked at me real hard and said
"Go do what you gotta do"
Not a whisper, and not an explosion, but a straight demand... and some things that I've been holding back just let loose, and I cried all over him. I'm an emotional person and I'm not embarrassed by it, because like I answered earlier, art is ... so many feelings... for me at least, divided, tasted, interrogated. But, for once it was someone I didn't feel bad for spending tears on. Because for the last couple years I have felt a worthlessness that no matter how much volunteer work I did, or how many extra hours I put in at work, or how many second chances I gave to people who have hurt me and back-up plans for the things that let me down - I still went to bed empty and unfulfilled... but that's what moments like this are for. A nice healthy slap in the face, and then on the back. He didn't slap me though, he hugged me and told me to write him.
There was the simplest purpose in the art around me, and it was made by nothing and everything... to see fulfillment done on such a unique level was beautiful to me.
I found all of Detroit beautiful.
After all that, we explored more of downtown and it's sweet lil pubs inside of old train stations, and experienced Coney Island hot dogs - so good (Lafayette, duh). Took a nice walk around, waved at Canada from across the way then went to Chelsea's friend Zak's place to drink in the company of boats.
Grand Trunk Pub
Lafayette Coney Island Dogs
The rest of the night went on real long... probably cause we kept hopping from boat to boat checking out all the insides, and workin the crossword puzzles (Chels). But it was all super rad; the abandoned buildings, the sketchy liquor stores, singing Outkast with random lady in said-liquor store, the art, the buildings, the people ... even with the horrible driving. Oh, right, did we mention that for being Motor City, Detroit is pretty much a death trap on the roads? Or... maybe it's meant to be like that. I dunno.
Just go do what you gotta do.
Total miles driven: 710 Total vanMeltdowns: 9ish Total peopleMeltdowns: 1
