Yesterday I started packing. I am moving again. So soon. But this place on Christburger was always meant to be temporary anyway. And now I have another temporary place to stay in. A sublet from my friend Doug. Just 4 blocks from here. The good thing is I don't need to learn a new neighborhood. Which is nice to think. His place will be a live/work situation. A nicely sized studio off the bedroom. It is homey but also a bit raw on the edges. Perfect. It is those types of spaces that feed my creativity. Too nice of a place and it doesn't seem right to work in; too raw and its not comfortable. But this has the right mix. And if that weren't enough it has a rust-colored couch. The clencher. deal closer. Every studio I have had in school - undergrad, grad - have all had a rust colored couch. It is a requirement. Like needing lots of light. Though I tend to prefer a cave with light. a contradiction but if you saw this place you would understand. It is removed from the street. Set back in. a place to retreat. And on break from painting I can look across the way, at the painter neighbor. straight into his window and see him stepping back from his easel. To pause, reflect and then start in again. And then I will take a sip from my hot, jasmin tea and start in again too.
I am not sure why I started packing. I am paired down to one large suitcase and one smaller one - freeing and humbling at the same time. I don't move until November 1. But I am excited to move and the closer I get to this date, this place the closer I get to painting again. My supplies come in the next week or so from Chicago!
And maybe sometime I can meet the painter across the way. Doug or I, one of us, suggested I make a sign for the window. Künstlerin Inside. But then we decided Painter Inside sounded cooler. Or was it Painter at Work? But this man seems pretty absorbed in what he is doing to actually look out the window and up at mine...we'll see. But at the very least, other people in the neighborhood will know.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
rainy sunday
Last night,
Ulrich's bike to the Isenberg's to watch Jules.
air was cool
along Shoenhauser Allee;
still getting used to navigating through the crowd-
ed sidewalks and busy bike lanes.
The night was nice. Little Jules was adorable.
We played skateparks, watched some children's shows from my childhood,
and then I put him to bed. Quiet.
Sitting next to the bookshelf I looked at all the titles. The Robert Creeley one seemed right
A Place
The wetness of that street,
the light
the way the clouds were heavy is
not description But in the memory I fear
the distortion. I do not feel
what it was I was feeling. I am im-
patient to begin again, open
whatever door it was, find the weather
is out there, grey. the rain then and
now falling from the sky to the wet ground.
The Answer
Will we speak to each other
making the grass bend as if
a wind were before us, will our
way be as graceful, as
substantial as the movement
of something moving so gently
We break things in pieces like
walls we break ourselves into
hearing them fall apart just to hear it
and another one from a bent notecard, for Jeff -
Inside and out
impossible locations-
reaching in
from out-
side, out
from in-
side - as
middle:
one hand.
Later writing down what the Isenberg's have in their refrigerator. Wilhelm Brandenburg Schwarzwaelder Schinken and Rewe bio Maasdamer. New ideas. It seemed funny to do something like that but I am already getting tired of the same few things I buy.
Noah came home and let me borrow the new David Sedaris book, 'When you are engulfed in Flames' and I am eager to read it.
And while the bike there was alright what I truly love are late night rides. It is one of my favorite things. Everything quiet. And the street lights show you only what you need to see.
Once home wrote a bit and then went to bed.
Today spent making plans for some important things that need to get down the next week or two. And then cleaning. Looking after Ulrich's flowers. His one request besides taking in the mail. Though I don't know how his flowers could possibly last for two weeks. I took the withered ones out and made new smaller arrangements. I imagined myself the day before his arrival moving one limp bud and faded greenery around in a small vase. At every turn, still looking lifeless.
Laundry: whites and darks draped over the drying rack near the heater in the window. smelling like wet ferns. Not really. Though ferns do sit next to the washer.
Have to go get ready. Olga is coming with over with a pumpkin and we are going to make some soup.
Ulrich's bike to the Isenberg's to watch Jules.
air was cool
along Shoenhauser Allee;
still getting used to navigating through the crowd-
ed sidewalks and busy bike lanes.
The night was nice. Little Jules was adorable.
We played skateparks, watched some children's shows from my childhood,
and then I put him to bed. Quiet.
Sitting next to the bookshelf I looked at all the titles. The Robert Creeley one seemed right
A Place
The wetness of that street,
the light
the way the clouds were heavy is
not description But in the memory I fear
the distortion. I do not feel
what it was I was feeling. I am im-
patient to begin again, open
whatever door it was, find the weather
is out there, grey. the rain then and
now falling from the sky to the wet ground.
The Answer
Will we speak to each other
making the grass bend as if
a wind were before us, will our
way be as graceful, as
substantial as the movement
of something moving so gently
We break things in pieces like
walls we break ourselves into
hearing them fall apart just to hear it
and another one from a bent notecard, for Jeff -
Inside and out
impossible locations-
reaching in
from out-
side, out
from in-
side - as
middle:
one hand.
Later writing down what the Isenberg's have in their refrigerator. Wilhelm Brandenburg Schwarzwaelder Schinken and Rewe bio Maasdamer. New ideas. It seemed funny to do something like that but I am already getting tired of the same few things I buy.
Noah came home and let me borrow the new David Sedaris book, 'When you are engulfed in Flames' and I am eager to read it.
And while the bike there was alright what I truly love are late night rides. It is one of my favorite things. Everything quiet. And the street lights show you only what you need to see.
Once home wrote a bit and then went to bed.
Today spent making plans for some important things that need to get down the next week or two. And then cleaning. Looking after Ulrich's flowers. His one request besides taking in the mail. Though I don't know how his flowers could possibly last for two weeks. I took the withered ones out and made new smaller arrangements. I imagined myself the day before his arrival moving one limp bud and faded greenery around in a small vase. At every turn, still looking lifeless.
Laundry: whites and darks draped over the drying rack near the heater in the window. smelling like wet ferns. Not really. Though ferns do sit next to the washer.
Have to go get ready. Olga is coming with over with a pumpkin and we are going to make some soup.
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