May 28th, 2007


(no subject)

So t'other day at Huntington Gardens, I was in their gift shop--briefly, it was a zoo--and saw an interesting art book of the work of someone named Joseph Cornell. Not having suitcase space, I didn't get the book, but once I got back to my faithful laptop, I looked him up.

Joseph Cornell's weird little boxes

Some of these appeal to me. Part of it's the birds, I imagine, but something else, too.  And again, some of 'em leave me cold. I don't know. Some assemblage, like collage, works for me, and others I'm left going "And you cut up a perfectly nice book of Audobon reproductions for this?"

I think I'm interested in this stuff at the moment because...well, I'm not sure why. It's sort of an outgrowth of the little shrines I've been working on, weird little collages that aren't quite 3-D but are headed that way. (Obviously the least lucrative path for an artist to pursue who makes most of her livelihood selling prints and doesn't own a good camera! That might have something to do with it. The muse is nothing if not perverse...) 

At the same time, it ties in with an idea in the back of my head about photocollage comics, something I've been wanting to try ever since looking at a collection of McKean's Sandman covers.

Oh, well, someday when I have the time...or don't have the time, but have access to my computer!

(no subject)

Well, here we are. May 28th. I have finally crossed that dark threshold.

I'm thirty today.

One of the first thing you learn about birthdays as a kid is how you don't feel any different the next day. The difference between May 27th and May 28th is only a day, not a full year. (Actually, since I was born on a naval base in Yokosuka, Japan, at around three in the afternoon, my birthday's either already over or tomorrow or something like that. I'm never entirely clear on that one.)

So I don't feel any different today.

I'm more than ready for 29 to be over, though. If you'd asked me a year ago where I'd be on my birthday, I really wouldn't have guessed I'd be seperated, most of a continent away, sitting on an immense porch looking at the Hollywood sign and planning a move that crosses the whole of the continental US. (I could probably have guessed "blogging." That's as far as I think I'd go.) Still, the best laid plans... 29--at least the back half of 29--was arguably the worst year of my adult life, definitely in the running for the all-time championship, and I am more than glad to see it recede in the tail-lights forever.

They say life begins at thirty. (My mother says hers began at 39, my stepfather notes that 30 was forty years ago, and all he can remember is that he had a much higher tolerance for alcohol back then.)

I have no particular plans for today, but we'll see what the future holds!

It can only get better from here.