make an intention:
spend 10 minutes tearing and taping
witness after cleaning while aj's at bb practice
witness:
make an intention: 7:54pm
enjoy this b & n (barnes & noble) moment w/my daughter
7:56 enter the silence, write what i see:
today's collage is taped as a page to the right side--inside the love letter/watch panel. i see my dad--no. write what i see--physically see with my physical eyes. i see enter here. your daughter. your son. an old man in a plaid shirt and a life jacket an dsunglasses and a baseball cap holding a fishing rod--with a boy--a grandson's age--holding a pole, the direction handle for turning the motor of a boat--they are in a boat--they are evocative of a grandfather and grand son in a boat--when i found this image and taped it down to the index cards, i found myself remembering the kayak trip--aj with steven, dad following after--crossing the bridge--watching my boy with that man--the only boating experience my father had with my son. i see the words "at any other place, the idea might never have been born." i see a sailboat--for outward bound in the lower left corner. there are at least four people in the boat--on an ocean--calm and blue with a clear sky aside from a hint of billowing cloud. i see the words: it's too big for one person to solve. it's going to take all of us, working together. the good news is, the solution already exists. i see the love bus--the bug bus i fantasize about. i see the man--the business man--the professional man, relaxing by the fire with a scotch in his hand. i see the words: your brother, your sister, your mother, your father, your husband. i see the words magical lifetime and our situation is temporary and the little line drawing of the hour glass. i see the couple holding the map outside the ruins of rome? i see the upper right hand corner the words money can't buy happiness. then the paragraph from the outward bound ad: leave the familiar behind and seek a world of adventure. outside, challenge yourself to climb mountains, run whitewater rapids or sail the open ocean. inside, go far beyond what you thought you knew about yourself, your capabilities, your dreams. set sail on one of 500 wilderness adventures--and be amazed at what you'll discover within. no experience necessary. this challenge belongs to you.
finish side 1, 8:13
drive from b&n to the school where aj's bb practice is this week
8:45 make an intention:
i witness the other side of the collage--i write what i see 'til 9pm when it's time to get AJ from practice.
i see another story. isn't it wonderful to be the only item on the agenda? then the script--recently my husband lost his job and things have been tight. rediscover your family and friends. the bottom line, start earning tomorrow. peace of mind. how do you redesign the fire most beloved family trees are like every other tree. they need water. very carefully--a new generation has arrived. the power of dreams. life. the numbers. together we can. moments, memories. this is start up do-it-yourself. follow your inner compass. welcome to your imagination.
finish: 8:51
now ask: collage--what do you want me to know?
collage: there's a story telling itself through the journey of this book that's emerging--the collage shaking things up, calling things out--stories telling themselves under the surface of things and here there are secrets? re-telling--might never have been born. women who want to make a memorable entrance. there is some bridge your dad is making--or you are attempting to make with him. there is a wall of fear--a space of reaching--a child's missing of having a dad in the world. you are grieving. give yourself some room. trust. wait. breathe. unload. let go of EVERYTHING--everything you can let go of. things are in your way--old energy, stuck ideas that do not belong to you--they are his? your genealogical ancestors'--someone else's. they have no air to breath in that you do not agree to breathe for them. there is no room for those thoughts. stop thinking them. remember--time is elastic--and elapsing. do only that you KNOW you love. live with no regret--enter here: your daughter, your son. how do you redesign the fire? my beloved, very carefully. family trees are like every other tree--they need water. a new generation has arrived.
all we can ever have: time and each other for as long as we make time...to have each other--at any other place, the idea might never have been born.
constraints defy time. take time with you.
go through life
icons and innovators
wild life
sparks my passion
it is my love
a precision
fantastic four
as beautiful and seductive
the past inspiring the future
an inspiring icon is reborn
don't simply purchase--
one acquires
offering a true sense of
well being
in soul, body and mind
recalibrate your spirit as your soul
letter perfect
the art of achievement
in the service of pioneers
and discoverers
the long road
a different take
the art
the world
the art
privileged travel
system of your dreams.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
intention and witness
yesterday i made an agreement with my friend and colleague, jenn, to create a collage and enter it in witness and share with her what came up. we're both in the place of wanting to become professionals at this transformative arts thing--to prove to ourselves--no, not prove--experience ourselves as transformative arts professionals and this intention and witness practice, best elucidated by the woman who thought it up, pat b. allen, my mentor and author of the books art is a way of knowing and art is a spiritual practice--well, this process is a foundation of finding our professional natures--exorcising our professional demons and having some practice to observe, sustain and enter into our tranformative arts professional life.
that's a long paragraph to say, we're sharing our angst and our experience, strength and hope with one another in an effort to more fully enter the world in the way in which we want to work in it--as artists, paid for being artists and creating art in community with others. anyway, this pursuit seems linked to the project--as intention and witness is the methodology we want to use to encounter our stuff--and move through it. here's what i sent to jenn:
okay--collage and witness writing. witness writing first:
i sat down this morning, and made this intention:
my intention is to collage til 9:45am--to notice the process and anything that comes up for me about my current job/financial/art making/family situation and then to witness at 10:45 after the remote reiki which i will experience in the bath --10-10:45. (the woman we met who sold albie's stuff on e-bay called me to tell me she's now a medium, invited me over, gave me chocolates and fruit and tea and told me what my dead relatives have to say. she then offered me reiki--for which i paid her. her number is 11. her fee for mediuming is $110. her fee for remote reiki is $65. we visited with the clear understanding that there was no money--just tea and conversation--but i felt to honor the gift i needed to offer a clean exchange. she is all tied up in my moneymaking some how--or helping to get me out of my own way, somehow--sharing stories and insights and experiences--seems a pure heart offering a clear story. told me my spirit guide was named suriah--she's the main one--a kind of philosopher--anyway--this is all background--but something i wanted to tell you about because it's happening in the middle of stuff that's starting to happen and shift around money. she was making good money with found value--selling other people's things on e-bay. now, her guides tell her she's a medium. they helped her write her myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/mariahaswell).
okay--now--to witness what i made.
make an intention: i intend to enter the collage piece and write what comes to me to write til 2pm.
okay--now--to witness what i did as soon as i wrote that intention: i heard something upstairs--andi went and closed all the windows i had opened when i said to the spirits in the house "thank you for coming. i know you came to protect. now, if you are not here for my highest good, and that of my family, of my husband and children, i thank you for coming and invite you to leave." i moved through each room in the house saying more or less the same thing and inviting every energy that was not in my highest good to go--to leave--reminding it as maria instructed, that it was welcome back at any time when it was coming for my highest good. my intention, as i moved throughout the house, was to ask the energy that is in it that is causing? inspiring? me to want to leave and feel unworthy of it to exit. and to re-state, as i moved through this house, my intention to stay with my husband and in this house if that was in accordance with our highest good.
it felt good--compelling--as i moved through the house--when i was inviting things to leave.
when i sat down to write my intention, though, i heard something fall or move upstairs and i wanted to close the windows in protection? in keeping my energy in? in keeping what i fear out? in keeping...protecting...something.
anyway, then i realized i was hungry and made a little lunch. i looked at the piles of laundry and the messy kids rooms and thought about doing laundry. i went around the house to close what could be closed, comfortably, and i noticed the mess i was leaving in each and every room. i felt guilty for not going to the studio as i imagined i might with this day. and then i nearly lost the intention to witness. when the microwave warmed the food, i came back to this computer--perhaps, witness writing is best recorded by hand?
it's 1:39. i'm going to write by hand what i see and then record it and send it off to you--
it's 1:42--i had to eat my chicken and read the e-mail and syllabus i just got from john fox--for this weekend's course--
okay, 1:43--i start writing now--
1:44--i enter the witness--the book? the tripod? the clear cover covering everything--taping it all together--the pieces fashioned and torn from something else--5 purple index cards arranged as backbone/ground--with a 6th--and intention recorded & taped as flap. why is the "back" not the "front"? i notice feet layid out in the sand, 4 plane windows looking down from the clouds, thee purple substances juxtaposed against a woman's back, a man riding atop an african elephant with long ivory tusks, the phrases cut from an ad for jets--shared ownership of a plane--ripped out of the Robb Report--a luxury magazine for lifestyle subscribers--(hey? am i a copywriter?). i lift up and see the crystal trees/vases fashioned from molten sand--blown into opulence--collected by the rich--here are the words aside from mine--in a blue ribbon across the top--a headline above my MAKE AN INTENTION: SOMETIMES YOU NEED TO GO TO THE EDGE OF THE EARTH TO FIND YOUR CENTER--and then there, across the bottom: it's a choice. a choice to speed up your life. a choice to slow it down. three phrases torn in fluffy cloud shapes and pinned as anchor for the bottom of this page. i travel to the cover--the sentient great leap forward with a green agean sea resort town showing as heaven above the empty clarity that bridges the blue ocean and the rainbow promise connecting to a sandy shoreline:
A NEW LIFESTYLE BEGINS
inside the flap, it's about the trip you want to take...not the plane you have to buy--arranged over an inside view of the gears of time. revolutionary reds with my brown sharpie recording the rays of radiant energy covering--recovering--extending--reconnecting onto the center panel. (i hear the owl who hooting--and i want to go and look. it stops and starts again--teasing me back to notice the time: 1:55).
i look again--the twilight of pink sky, mauve ocean--the art of selection--my own handwriting FORGIVE, LET GO, MOVE ON--the spikes of grass--connecting stitches between it's real...and it's spectacular and new york is a personal experience. STAY DIFFERENT. CONTRAINTS DEFY TIME. a compass--a line drawing of the compass tool--and the words "implements for drawing a circle" and the seal LOVE AFFAIRS aren't just between two people--the drawing on plexi or clear glass--of the architect? the engineer? the artist? creating a new car--the WHERE FAMILIES GATHER over the blue--the you merely take care of it for the next generation emphasized with my drawing of a dot inside a coffin inside a box inside the ground--the art of passion. WEALTH, FAMILY AND PHILANTHROPY as anchor to this side of the center panel.
it's 2:00. i recommit. i make an intention to continue writing to 2:10.
i move my attention to the target i drew with the sharpie--the image ANYWARE sound. vision. soul. the dots in the triangles under the cow--the domestic cow--bos taurus--with horns. (me?) i see the phrase "you never actually own" i see my writing 505 bourne lane over the torn out: ONE LEGENDARY ADDRESS. TWO OPPORTUNITIES TO MAKE IT YOURS. i see the trio of spirals the four lines ))((. the bigger spiral at the base of the love affairs oval. i see TAKE TIME WITH YOU under six of my spirals and undulating lines waving back over to bridge back to you never actually own. i see innovator (n. one who begins something new). i see Do you have the time in script leading me up to another of my handmade sharpie spirals. i check the time on the computer. 2:05. i see too fast too soon on a white background leading back to constraints defy time--words i rearranged to suit the sentence fragment and sentiment i wanted--i see LIFESTYLE and begin your own tradition and VISIONARIES align here. i see UNITED benson udom/elizabeth over a torn tsa sticker and a knowing what counts. i see there were no breakdowns linked to the living environment--a sentiment i crafted from fragments. i see my spiral--4 lines--then ART, a butterfly torn from my sister's return address label, the stamp she used to get her card all the way to me and (i stop to count them) 68 hearts. i return my gaze to above the butterfly and read FINE SENSE OF BALANCE the art--15 ways to make a great choice.
i check the time: 2:10
i make a new intention to stay in the writing 5 more minutes
i see the grid pattern along the inside seam of the left side of the center panel. i notice wht i almost forgot to record: now daily nonstop to beijing & shanghai china--visit united.com/chinatravel to book today. united. untited airlines, inc. all right reserved. finding holiday peace with the family.
i move my attention to the third panel with three watches, a love letter from president eisenhower handwritten on allied force headquarters office of the commander in chief stationery. i read the quite they pulled out that inspired me to tear it from the magazine and float it on the page:
"i want--always to do my duty to the extreme limit of my ability"
i flip the pane lover--the sum of the parts of time--the tiny record of each piece in one of the exquisite watches--separated from the whole and recorded as individual pieces--each with the space around it its size requires while still allowing a collective of others to share its line. there are, as there always are, fewer big things at the top--lots of little things at the bottom--my script; all we can ever have forever? time and each other for as long as we make time...to have each other.
witness finished recording: 2:18
my intention: to type in this witness and send it off to jenn by 2:40--when i will get in the car to pick up zoey (on time).
time sent: 2:40.
that's a long paragraph to say, we're sharing our angst and our experience, strength and hope with one another in an effort to more fully enter the world in the way in which we want to work in it--as artists, paid for being artists and creating art in community with others. anyway, this pursuit seems linked to the project--as intention and witness is the methodology we want to use to encounter our stuff--and move through it. here's what i sent to jenn:
okay--collage and witness writing. witness writing first:
i sat down this morning, and made this intention:
my intention is to collage til 9:45am--to notice the process and anything that comes up for me about my current job/financial/art making/family situation and then to witness at 10:45 after the remote reiki which i will experience in the bath --10-10:45. (the woman we met who sold albie's stuff on e-bay called me to tell me she's now a medium, invited me over, gave me chocolates and fruit and tea and told me what my dead relatives have to say. she then offered me reiki--for which i paid her. her number is 11. her fee for mediuming is $110. her fee for remote reiki is $65. we visited with the clear understanding that there was no money--just tea and conversation--but i felt to honor the gift i needed to offer a clean exchange. she is all tied up in my moneymaking some how--or helping to get me out of my own way, somehow--sharing stories and insights and experiences--seems a pure heart offering a clear story. told me my spirit guide was named suriah--she's the main one--a kind of philosopher--anyway--this is all background--but something i wanted to tell you about because it's happening in the middle of stuff that's starting to happen and shift around money. she was making good money with found value--selling other people's things on e-bay. now, her guides tell her she's a medium. they helped her write her myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/mariahaswell).
okay--now--to witness what i made.
make an intention: i intend to enter the collage piece and write what comes to me to write til 2pm.
okay--now--to witness what i did as soon as i wrote that intention: i heard something upstairs--andi went and closed all the windows i had opened when i said to the spirits in the house "thank you for coming. i know you came to protect. now, if you are not here for my highest good, and that of my family, of my husband and children, i thank you for coming and invite you to leave." i moved through each room in the house saying more or less the same thing and inviting every energy that was not in my highest good to go--to leave--reminding it as maria instructed, that it was welcome back at any time when it was coming for my highest good. my intention, as i moved throughout the house, was to ask the energy that is in it that is causing? inspiring? me to want to leave and feel unworthy of it to exit. and to re-state, as i moved through this house, my intention to stay with my husband and in this house if that was in accordance with our highest good.
it felt good--compelling--as i moved through the house--when i was inviting things to leave.
when i sat down to write my intention, though, i heard something fall or move upstairs and i wanted to close the windows in protection? in keeping my energy in? in keeping what i fear out? in keeping...protecting...something.
anyway, then i realized i was hungry and made a little lunch. i looked at the piles of laundry and the messy kids rooms and thought about doing laundry. i went around the house to close what could be closed, comfortably, and i noticed the mess i was leaving in each and every room. i felt guilty for not going to the studio as i imagined i might with this day. and then i nearly lost the intention to witness. when the microwave warmed the food, i came back to this computer--perhaps, witness writing is best recorded by hand?
it's 1:39. i'm going to write by hand what i see and then record it and send it off to you--
it's 1:42--i had to eat my chicken and read the e-mail and syllabus i just got from john fox--for this weekend's course--
okay, 1:43--i start writing now--
1:44--i enter the witness--the book? the tripod? the clear cover covering everything--taping it all together--the pieces fashioned and torn from something else--5 purple index cards arranged as backbone/ground--with a 6th--and intention recorded & taped as flap. why is the "back" not the "front"? i notice feet layid out in the sand, 4 plane windows looking down from the clouds, thee purple substances juxtaposed against a woman's back, a man riding atop an african elephant with long ivory tusks, the phrases cut from an ad for jets--shared ownership of a plane--ripped out of the Robb Report--a luxury magazine for lifestyle subscribers--(hey? am i a copywriter?). i lift up and see the crystal trees/vases fashioned from molten sand--blown into opulence--collected by the rich--here are the words aside from mine--in a blue ribbon across the top--a headline above my MAKE AN INTENTION: SOMETIMES YOU NEED TO GO TO THE EDGE OF THE EARTH TO FIND YOUR CENTER--and then there, across the bottom: it's a choice. a choice to speed up your life. a choice to slow it down. three phrases torn in fluffy cloud shapes and pinned as anchor for the bottom of this page. i travel to the cover--the sentient great leap forward with a green agean sea resort town showing as heaven above the empty clarity that bridges the blue ocean and the rainbow promise connecting to a sandy shoreline:
A NEW LIFESTYLE BEGINS
inside the flap, it's about the trip you want to take...not the plane you have to buy--arranged over an inside view of the gears of time. revolutionary reds with my brown sharpie recording the rays of radiant energy covering--recovering--extending--reconnecting onto the center panel. (i hear the owl who hooting--and i want to go and look. it stops and starts again--teasing me back to notice the time: 1:55).
i look again--the twilight of pink sky, mauve ocean--the art of selection--my own handwriting FORGIVE, LET GO, MOVE ON--the spikes of grass--connecting stitches between it's real...and it's spectacular and new york is a personal experience. STAY DIFFERENT. CONTRAINTS DEFY TIME. a compass--a line drawing of the compass tool--and the words "implements for drawing a circle" and the seal LOVE AFFAIRS aren't just between two people--the drawing on plexi or clear glass--of the architect? the engineer? the artist? creating a new car--the WHERE FAMILIES GATHER over the blue--the you merely take care of it for the next generation emphasized with my drawing of a dot inside a coffin inside a box inside the ground--the art of passion. WEALTH, FAMILY AND PHILANTHROPY as anchor to this side of the center panel.
it's 2:00. i recommit. i make an intention to continue writing to 2:10.
i move my attention to the target i drew with the sharpie--the image ANYWARE sound. vision. soul. the dots in the triangles under the cow--the domestic cow--bos taurus--with horns. (me?) i see the phrase "you never actually own" i see my writing 505 bourne lane over the torn out: ONE LEGENDARY ADDRESS. TWO OPPORTUNITIES TO MAKE IT YOURS. i see the trio of spirals the four lines ))((. the bigger spiral at the base of the love affairs oval. i see TAKE TIME WITH YOU under six of my spirals and undulating lines waving back over to bridge back to you never actually own. i see innovator (n. one who begins something new). i see Do you have the time in script leading me up to another of my handmade sharpie spirals. i check the time on the computer. 2:05. i see too fast too soon on a white background leading back to constraints defy time--words i rearranged to suit the sentence fragment and sentiment i wanted--i see LIFESTYLE and begin your own tradition and VISIONARIES align here. i see UNITED benson udom/elizabeth over a torn tsa sticker and a knowing what counts. i see there were no breakdowns linked to the living environment--a sentiment i crafted from fragments. i see my spiral--4 lines--then ART, a butterfly torn from my sister's return address label, the stamp she used to get her card all the way to me and (i stop to count them) 68 hearts. i return my gaze to above the butterfly and read FINE SENSE OF BALANCE the art--15 ways to make a great choice.
i check the time: 2:10
i make a new intention to stay in the writing 5 more minutes
i see the grid pattern along the inside seam of the left side of the center panel. i notice wht i almost forgot to record: now daily nonstop to beijing & shanghai china--visit united.com/chinatravel to book today. united. untited airlines, inc. all right reserved. finding holiday peace with the family.
i move my attention to the third panel with three watches, a love letter from president eisenhower handwritten on allied force headquarters office of the commander in chief stationery. i read the quite they pulled out that inspired me to tear it from the magazine and float it on the page:
"i want--always to do my duty to the extreme limit of my ability"
i flip the pane lover--the sum of the parts of time--the tiny record of each piece in one of the exquisite watches--separated from the whole and recorded as individual pieces--each with the space around it its size requires while still allowing a collective of others to share its line. there are, as there always are, fewer big things at the top--lots of little things at the bottom--my script; all we can ever have forever? time and each other for as long as we make time...to have each other.
witness finished recording: 2:18
my intention: to type in this witness and send it off to jenn by 2:40--when i will get in the car to pick up zoey (on time).
time sent: 2:40.
Monday, April 21, 2008
the a.i.r. experiment and research study
i'm engaging in a little research project this semester--mentored by Pat. B. Allen through JFKU. I'm deciding, i'm a self-declared ARTIST IN RESIDENCE and showing up in various settings, engaging in art making, and noticing what happens in me--and around me--as i do it. i'm going to track the efforts here. please let me know if anything sparks something in you--makes you want to be an a.i.r. too--and what you get going in your own part of the world as inspired by anything you come across here.
as always, thank you for your kind eyeballs.
i am moving forward--entering the work. so far, i have had 3 data point/visible artist in residence experiences.
1. in line at the post office in novato on monday, april 14--the day before tax day. i was mailing off the promised books to my contributing writers, and the line was long and the box was heavy and the feeling in the room was anxious and stressful. when i got far enough in the line, i took out a pen and began decorating the box--drawing the energy in the room. i noticed these things: i went to a much calmer/more meditative state, those around me, as long as i kept up in the line, looked interested in what i was drawing and seemed "distracted" by having something else to notice, i received comments, "good idea", "i like to draw, too", "hmmmm". all in, the experience of drawing in the line took approximately one hour. when i got to the window, and it was my turn for help from the postal worker, i noticed that i was more calm, more focused, and friendlier than i might otherwise have been. i engaged with the clerk and she told me a story of what she does to calm her nerves when the line is long and tensions are high, as they are today. she talked about tomorrow, and how the radio station will be outside and that sometimes the staff at the post office will bring in cookies and refreshments for the folks who have to wait in line. she talked about how many years she'd been doing this (8) and how she doesn't get rattled as much anymore--except when the computer goes down and the cc/atm processing takes longer than it should (as it did for our exchange). although this was an "accidental" a.i.r. encounter, as i hadn't entered the post office with the intention it be my first a.i.r. experience, i noticed it and thought it could be included, at least anecdotally.
2. coming back from the esc trade show in san jose that i attended at the request of an ad agency, on thursday, april 18, i got turned around and took the wrong highway toward home. realizing i was at sand hill road (the famous road where all the vc (venture capitalists) have their offices), i took the exit and headed over toward stanford. i thought, to sit out the traffic and take in the sunset, i would find my way over to the cantor arts center and encounter what was there to encounter, and enter what was there to enter and write what came up in witness. i parked just opposite the sandstone sculpture installed by andrew goldsworthy and team. i found the bend in the serpent that felt most "womblike" and parked my artist's butt in that coil of the snake. i felt the strength of the sandstone wall and admired the chiseled rocks and their hearty placement--purposeful, strong, calmly positioned, without the need for the glue of cement to bind the rocks together in any way. each piece of the wall puzzle was simply laid in where it indicated its belonging. i sat in the center of that space for a long time. i began to notice the people walking a respectful distance from where i was sitting in the serpent. i began to notice the people noticing the placement of me in the coiled wall. i began to notice the decaying leaves that had clustered with the wind in this same spot in which i sat. i felt the a.i.r. in me take over and begin writing, directly on the leaves, leaving a trail of the questions that emerged from this moment of sitting. i felt my artist interacting with the art of this stone wall and the inspiration left by the artists who created it and the famous artist who inspired it. i found my own way to extend the work with my making--and left a trail of worded leaves, in various moments of eaten or decaying, as a kind of breadcrumb trail leading the imagined others in, as making it led me out. i noticed, as i emerged "just beth" and moved out of the sculpture on toward the art center, that i was being observed. i noticed others follow the trail of worded leaves in as i moved a safe distance away.
this encounter led me to one where i wondered if the guard on the bench was a duane hanson sculpture--as he was sitting so still. i was beaming happy as i realized he was real. we had an exchange about the ticket he got and the pay he got for being a guard at the cantor arts center and the realization that he had to pay to work at stanford that day. he talked about how there are no permits for part time guards and that the walk to and from a parking place he could find, when he was early enough for his shift, added another 40 minutes to his unpaid time at work. he talked about playing with his neighbor's child and having that be worth more than anything he earned at work and how he would much rather do that than pay to come to work at stanford. he talked about how unfair it was that part time security guards did not receive parking permits and had to walk so far or get tickets--$35--that the school would not absorb. i promised i would write a letter.
i went in to the center, and moved through rooms i had been in before and parts of the collection i had not taken time with. i found a duane hanson sculpture that reminded me of my dad. i smiled in recognition.
before i was done with the center and ready to re-enter the flow of traffic home, i took some time witnessing the gates of hell--an extraordinary sculpture in the garden with many other pieces by rodin. i shared the witness here: http://web.mac.com/bethbenson/writressworder.com/elizablog_08/Entries/2008/4/17_witnessing_the_gates_of_hell.html
3. on friday,april 19, i returned to a favorite family owned cafe, denica's, where, over the years of my doorstop cinnamon roll and double mocha, i have come to know the owner and her husband. my years of regular writing there began to spill over and connect me to the folks who always saw me coming in to do my creative activity. when i came through the line, ordering a breakfast sandwich and double mocha, and then sat at my customary table at the end of the counter, opened my handmade book and began making in it, james, the owner's husband, came over to tell me he had made a scrapbook for his family based on the inspiration he got from seeing me come in and make inside my own books. denica, herself, told me she started her newsletter as a result of 1. having always wanted to start it and 2. seeing me come in and write on a regular basis over time. denica extended an invitation that i write a column for her newsletter. i stayed in the making for about an hour. i ruminated on the invitations. at some point, james brought out a kind of a polyurethane and painted a faded part of the new pastry counter going in on the taco side of the business. it started inspired a discussion of his making tables, and how he forever became known as the guy who made the tables (big slabs of ancient wood, on a tripod of chrome legs, painted with something that brought each ring alive). he showed me what he was using and talked about using paintbrushes he could just throw away later. he went to the back and brought out some foam padded sandpaper cut in interesting shapes and talked about how much easier it was to use than other kinds of sandpaper. he made an appointment with me--asking when i would next be in--and offering to bring his scrapbook. once the appointment was secured, (next friday, april 26), he reminded me that the scrapbook was precious and we would need to take extra special care while looking at it. he talked of his plans to illustrate the cookbook he is making with his wife/the business, with pages from this scrapbook.
i will proceed with a few more this week--and just send you a weekly kind of reporting of what i'm noticing? i imagine this and the documentation of the encounters will form the raw material for the paper. am i imagining correctly? is that a weird question?
as always, thank you for your kind eyeballs.
i am moving forward--entering the work. so far, i have had 3 data point/visible artist in residence experiences.
1. in line at the post office in novato on monday, april 14--the day before tax day. i was mailing off the promised books to my contributing writers, and the line was long and the box was heavy and the feeling in the room was anxious and stressful. when i got far enough in the line, i took out a pen and began decorating the box--drawing the energy in the room. i noticed these things: i went to a much calmer/more meditative state, those around me, as long as i kept up in the line, looked interested in what i was drawing and seemed "distracted" by having something else to notice, i received comments, "good idea", "i like to draw, too", "hmmmm". all in, the experience of drawing in the line took approximately one hour. when i got to the window, and it was my turn for help from the postal worker, i noticed that i was more calm, more focused, and friendlier than i might otherwise have been. i engaged with the clerk and she told me a story of what she does to calm her nerves when the line is long and tensions are high, as they are today. she talked about tomorrow, and how the radio station will be outside and that sometimes the staff at the post office will bring in cookies and refreshments for the folks who have to wait in line. she talked about how many years she'd been doing this (8) and how she doesn't get rattled as much anymore--except when the computer goes down and the cc/atm processing takes longer than it should (as it did for our exchange). although this was an "accidental" a.i.r. encounter, as i hadn't entered the post office with the intention it be my first a.i.r. experience, i noticed it and thought it could be included, at least anecdotally.
2. coming back from the esc trade show in san jose that i attended at the request of an ad agency, on thursday, april 18, i got turned around and took the wrong highway toward home. realizing i was at sand hill road (the famous road where all the vc (venture capitalists) have their offices), i took the exit and headed over toward stanford. i thought, to sit out the traffic and take in the sunset, i would find my way over to the cantor arts center and encounter what was there to encounter, and enter what was there to enter and write what came up in witness. i parked just opposite the sandstone sculpture installed by andrew goldsworthy and team. i found the bend in the serpent that felt most "womblike" and parked my artist's butt in that coil of the snake. i felt the strength of the sandstone wall and admired the chiseled rocks and their hearty placement--purposeful, strong, calmly positioned, without the need for the glue of cement to bind the rocks together in any way. each piece of the wall puzzle was simply laid in where it indicated its belonging. i sat in the center of that space for a long time. i began to notice the people walking a respectful distance from where i was sitting in the serpent. i began to notice the people noticing the placement of me in the coiled wall. i began to notice the decaying leaves that had clustered with the wind in this same spot in which i sat. i felt the a.i.r. in me take over and begin writing, directly on the leaves, leaving a trail of the questions that emerged from this moment of sitting. i felt my artist interacting with the art of this stone wall and the inspiration left by the artists who created it and the famous artist who inspired it. i found my own way to extend the work with my making--and left a trail of worded leaves, in various moments of eaten or decaying, as a kind of breadcrumb trail leading the imagined others in, as making it led me out. i noticed, as i emerged "just beth" and moved out of the sculpture on toward the art center, that i was being observed. i noticed others follow the trail of worded leaves in as i moved a safe distance away.
this encounter led me to one where i wondered if the guard on the bench was a duane hanson sculpture--as he was sitting so still. i was beaming happy as i realized he was real. we had an exchange about the ticket he got and the pay he got for being a guard at the cantor arts center and the realization that he had to pay to work at stanford that day. he talked about how there are no permits for part time guards and that the walk to and from a parking place he could find, when he was early enough for his shift, added another 40 minutes to his unpaid time at work. he talked about playing with his neighbor's child and having that be worth more than anything he earned at work and how he would much rather do that than pay to come to work at stanford. he talked about how unfair it was that part time security guards did not receive parking permits and had to walk so far or get tickets--$35--that the school would not absorb. i promised i would write a letter.
i went in to the center, and moved through rooms i had been in before and parts of the collection i had not taken time with. i found a duane hanson sculpture that reminded me of my dad. i smiled in recognition.
before i was done with the center and ready to re-enter the flow of traffic home, i took some time witnessing the gates of hell--an extraordinary sculpture in the garden with many other pieces by rodin. i shared the witness here: http://web.mac.com/bethbenson/writressworder.com/elizablog_08/Entries/2008/4/17_witnessing_the_gates_of_hell.html
3. on friday,april 19, i returned to a favorite family owned cafe, denica's, where, over the years of my doorstop cinnamon roll and double mocha, i have come to know the owner and her husband. my years of regular writing there began to spill over and connect me to the folks who always saw me coming in to do my creative activity. when i came through the line, ordering a breakfast sandwich and double mocha, and then sat at my customary table at the end of the counter, opened my handmade book and began making in it, james, the owner's husband, came over to tell me he had made a scrapbook for his family based on the inspiration he got from seeing me come in and make inside my own books. denica, herself, told me she started her newsletter as a result of 1. having always wanted to start it and 2. seeing me come in and write on a regular basis over time. denica extended an invitation that i write a column for her newsletter. i stayed in the making for about an hour. i ruminated on the invitations. at some point, james brought out a kind of a polyurethane and painted a faded part of the new pastry counter going in on the taco side of the business. it started inspired a discussion of his making tables, and how he forever became known as the guy who made the tables (big slabs of ancient wood, on a tripod of chrome legs, painted with something that brought each ring alive). he showed me what he was using and talked about using paintbrushes he could just throw away later. he went to the back and brought out some foam padded sandpaper cut in interesting shapes and talked about how much easier it was to use than other kinds of sandpaper. he made an appointment with me--asking when i would next be in--and offering to bring his scrapbook. once the appointment was secured, (next friday, april 26), he reminded me that the scrapbook was precious and we would need to take extra special care while looking at it. he talked of his plans to illustrate the cookbook he is making with his wife/the business, with pages from this scrapbook.
i will proceed with a few more this week--and just send you a weekly kind of reporting of what i'm noticing? i imagine this and the documentation of the encounters will form the raw material for the paper. am i imagining correctly? is that a weird question?
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