(A.A. & lucky pennies) in progress

sketch for a new piece, tentitavely titled One Day at a Time (pencil and paint on paper)

studio floor with parts for One Day at a Time, Adam Grossi's preemptive drawing with 121 heads-up (lucky) pennies, and some finished birds from Sentinels

Billy Collins in Chicago

This is in memory of the Billy "don't ask why I'm not William" Collins reading yesterday at the new Poetry Foundation building. He didn't read this poem, but this was the one that our friend read at my and Allie's wedding.


Litany

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine...
-Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.

* * * * *

During the Q & A he talked about growing up and maturing as a poet. He said that at some point he stopped repeating (at 3rd rate) past works and found his own voice, mixed with little bits from all of his favorite writers and pieces. The end result was a melted pot with no traceable history, except for himself.

blur sand

I visited the new exhibition, Pandora's Box: Joseph Cornell Unlocks the MCA Collection, today. All in all, it was a fairly decent exhibition - due mostly to the strong pieces. To note, it was nice to see Pipilotti Rist's piece, Sip My Ocean; Gabriel Orozco's, Socks 1 and Ball on Water; and a small collection of borrowed Cornell boxes.

Gabriel Orozco - Ball on Water (c-print) 1995

After a few rooms dedicated to themes in Cornell's work (usually exemplified by only one of his boxes) I began to notice that the curated work from the MCA collection often overshadows and even alters the read on Cornell's more humble pieces. This is made exemplary by the "The Voyeur" room - where an innocently curious box displaying a cut-out nude image of Betty Page is seen in context with a overtly loud Jeff Koons piece and a series of re-photographed images of women from pornography magazines wearing progressively less clothing (the clothing theme here is a suit). To me, this seems like the largest reach among many reaches in this show. It seems like the boxes are just a device to exhibit some of the collection. Although, Cindy Sherman, Francesca Woodman, and especially Henry Darger's works do share some common ground with Cornell's understated and private piece. In these, the sexuality is more subtle, playful, and devotional.

Jeff Koons - Woman in Tub (porcelain) 1988

Also, I have seen Cornell's boxes in museums and in reproduction where the verso of each piece is accessible. This is interesting because there is often a collage on the back side. But in this exhibition, all of the boxes are carefully backed up and secured to the wall (or in one case, laid flat). A similar approach is taken to the double-sided drawing by Darger. To fully experience a full-round piece, it seems that the artwork should be seen in the full round. (Let's not even talk about how Cornell's boxes were meant to be played with - interacted with to create an ever changing arrangement of objects and sounds.)

To top it off there was a spelling error on a wall tag:

this should read 'blue sand' (reminiscent of a recent piece by Eric Fleischauer)

bp / rosen

I have made connections between the concrete poetry and linguistic systems in bpNichol's and Kay Rosen's work before, but I've never seen it so straight forward as this. It is unclear which came first (bpNichol's book was published in 1990, and Rosen's Read Lips was made in 1989), or if one influenced the other. Regardless, these two piece are certainly mining the same intellectual ground. For me, finding this bpNichol piece really informed and opened up my read of Rosen's piece - which prior, seemed both on the surface and coded.

bpNichol - Portable Systems 17 (from art facts, 1990)

from later in this piece:

W = C1 + C2 + C3 etc

where W is the circumference of any word, C the circumference of the mouth opening at the apex of its particular phonemic movement & where 1,2,3 etc indicates the particular phoneme in terms of its place in the relevant speech sequence.

Kay Rosen - Read Lips (paint on wall) 1985

Where bpNichol's is more cold (analytic), Kay Rosen finds a place of geographic/familial investigation. (mum is 'British' for mom). This 'mom' (or the idea of mom), is illustrated in a manner that is surprising because of its cold approach, through a phonemic series, to a term that is used in mostly private and personal places.

Street of Jewelers
by Charles Simic, from Night Picnic

What each one of these hundreds
Of windows did with the gold
That was melting in them this morning,
I cannot begin to imagine.

I act like a prospective burglar
Noting the ones that are open,
There curtains drawn to the side
By someone stark naked,
I may have just missed.

Here, where no one walks now,
And when he does, he goes softly,
So as not to tip the scales
In the act of weighting
Specks of dust in the dying sunlight.

Christianity, made through humble means

These are all photographs of thing that I have found, or sought out - in the case of the altar. Although I was baptized and confirmed Methodist, I don't hold allegiance to any Christian faith. My past, and my family's history, does influence my thoughts on this subject. But, I am largely interested in Christianity as a transformative power, and as a model for making (my) art.

carved tree outside a of factory building, along Lake St, near Damen Ave, Chicago

Highway Church of God in Christ, along Van Burn St, near Leavett St, Chicago (the church faces I-290)

roadside monument, along Halsted St, near Cermak Rd, Chicago

altar to Mary (who's image was found in a water stain on the cement wall here), along Fullerton Ave, under the I-90/94 overpass, Chicago

Siphon

Adam Farcus - Siphon (for My Grandmother) (Apache tear (obsidian rock), gin, blanket) 2011