Sunday, October 18, 2009
Correspondence #2 Laptop Umbilical
October 7, 2009
This made me think about attachment and impermanence.
The other day my laptop powercord stopped working. I hadn’t noticed right away. The warning came on my screen that the battery was running low. But my computer was plugged in. I looked at the little place on the magnetic plug where the light usually tells me “green: all is charged and ready” or “red: I need the juice – keep me near an outlet”. I didn’t see either. Nothing. Just a cold, empty eye where the color used to be. And my computer was hanging on by the dying embers of its energy-dependent life. I tried not to panic. I hadn’t yet determined that it was the powercord, so I had lightheaded visions that I was about to lose all of my carefully constructed digital pearls.
When I turned myself and my computer over to the hands of the experts I was relieved to discover it was only the cord. I have a new one now and I am definitely claiming it as a belonging. I am grateful to the old one, but I have no desire to keep it.
This made me think about attachment and impermanence.
The other day my laptop powercord stopped working. I hadn’t noticed right away. The warning came on my screen that the battery was running low. But my computer was plugged in. I looked at the little place on the magnetic plug where the light usually tells me “green: all is charged and ready” or “red: I need the juice – keep me near an outlet”. I didn’t see either. Nothing. Just a cold, empty eye where the color used to be. And my computer was hanging on by the dying embers of its energy-dependent life. I tried not to panic. I hadn’t yet determined that it was the powercord, so I had lightheaded visions that I was about to lose all of my carefully constructed digital pearls.
When I turned myself and my computer over to the hands of the experts I was relieved to discover it was only the cord. I have a new one now and I am definitely claiming it as a belonging. I am grateful to the old one, but I have no desire to keep it.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Correspondence #1
27 september 2009
Greater Los Angeles feels very intense to me these days. People. Cars. Buildings. Sidewalks. For miles and miles. So many people. I'm often in my car, though. By myself, I am passing by.
Our little apartment is simple. There is comfort here, surrounded by the things that are familiar to me. I have a lot of objects out where I can see them. And, I do see them, just about every day. I soak them in. I take in the light passing through glass. I think of the person who gave me the mask, the doll, the tiny, brick-red tea pot. I feel the smiles and the warmth from the photos. I am here.
For several days I was thinking about belongings and my mind kept punching through each concept I tried to grab on to. Not this. Not this. I was trying not to be attached to anything because I know that things can be lost. To place my love in things feels scary. So I settled on looking at the rise and fall of my skin as I breathed. I belong in my skin. Maybe only here. (?) This felt shivery, though, so today I committed to letting myself be attached to these things. It doesn't feel quite so lonely. In fact, it feels like home. I'm willing to love these things and especially the people I associate these things with. Otherwise I would be starving. Instead, I feel rich.
Beginning the Project
I am beginning a project called Belongings that will be part of an exhibition called Actions, Conversations, and Intersections at the Los Angeles Municipal Art Gallery.
I am curious about our attachments to and associations with things. I’m thinking of the things we own, those inanimate objects with memories that may be so rich for us, but invisible to others. I’m also thinking of belongings because I am seeing a lot of movement of possessions right now. Several of my friends have been moving – downsizing, shifting, organizing, adjusting to changing life circumstances. Many are selling their belongings on line or in yard sales. Tight economic times cause us to think more intently about what we really need. Interesting concepts: essentials and non-essentials.
I’m also curious about belonging as in the illusive sense of feeling accepted or comfortable somewhere or with someone. I see the objects and this feeling as related somehow. These are the ideas I want to explore. I’ve asked artists Jonathan Bueno, Ellen Butler, Chris Elliott, Mary Cecile Gee, Nell Gould, Lynne Mori, and Gretchen Potts to participate by responding to these concepts in some way.
The show is curated by Edith Abeyta and Michael Lewis Miller and it will explore the participatory practices of over 60 Los Angeles based artists and organizations. Show dates are January 28 - April 18, 2010. The opening reception is Sunday, January 31, 2009 at 2pm.
I am curious about our attachments to and associations with things. I’m thinking of the things we own, those inanimate objects with memories that may be so rich for us, but invisible to others. I’m also thinking of belongings because I am seeing a lot of movement of possessions right now. Several of my friends have been moving – downsizing, shifting, organizing, adjusting to changing life circumstances. Many are selling their belongings on line or in yard sales. Tight economic times cause us to think more intently about what we really need. Interesting concepts: essentials and non-essentials.
I’m also curious about belonging as in the illusive sense of feeling accepted or comfortable somewhere or with someone. I see the objects and this feeling as related somehow. These are the ideas I want to explore. I’ve asked artists Jonathan Bueno, Ellen Butler, Chris Elliott, Mary Cecile Gee, Nell Gould, Lynne Mori, and Gretchen Potts to participate by responding to these concepts in some way.
The show is curated by Edith Abeyta and Michael Lewis Miller and it will explore the participatory practices of over 60 Los Angeles based artists and organizations. Show dates are January 28 - April 18, 2010. The opening reception is Sunday, January 31, 2009 at 2pm.
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