11/30/2010 § Leave a comment
On the margins of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Hollyhock House On the margins, we find an outside space and it is magical. And it is ours.
There was glass and grass and concrete. And sky and trees. This movement was quite spontaneous and serendipitous in how Michelle follows the rather surreal form of the tree in her movements.
11/23/2010 § Leave a comment
This is my current backyard. In the above photos, I document my favorite misplaced object, the Boat, rather romantically gliding on a sea of golden autumn leaves.
I live at the ground level of a two-story, five unit, colonial house in Salem. The tenants’ quarters, our spaces, face the owner’s house on the other side of an increasingly communal backyard. There was once a fence separating the two properties, but it has been torn down to allow easy access for the owner’s pick-up trucks to the construction materials stored in the basement, below our unit. The removal also allows us, the tenants, off-street parking spaces on the other property. Since the fence has come down, many lines have been crossed.
It is not readily discernible where one property ends and the other begins; although fence remnants on the north side do give it away on close inspection. In many ways this is of no concern since both properties are owned by the same person. The intriguing aspect of tearing down the fence, the physical embodiment of the property line, is that it releases the imagination of how to use space no longer clearly delineated. For one, it has increased access to users of each property by creating a through lot that opens onto the main highway on the east side and the local residential street on the west. Possibilities do not end with the increased circulation patterns of all of us, but the negation of the physical line has also transformed the once picket-fence enclosed and manicured yard into a fruitful breeding ground for objects of a certain dysfunctional quality.
11/22/2010 § Leave a comment
It is so simple, it needs no introduction. But I secretly want to talk about it for hours. It is my geographical home and my most recent, intentional break with reality. It is a portrait. A commentary on the breakdown between a simple understanding of solid and void. And an eyebrow raised regarding which element needs more fervent documentation, if choosing between the ephemeral or the permanent. This is taken seriously. That is nothing more than a light-hearted game. These threads may or may not be continued as I search, observe and judge.
We … have dreamt the world. We have dreamt it as firm, mysterious, visible, ubiquitous in space and durable in time; but in its architecture we have allowed tenuous and eternal crevices of unreason which tell us it is false. Borges, Labyrinths