And why was I at work so early, you might ask? Money trouble, etc etc blah blah blah, figured I could get some brownie points with the boss for showing up a few minutes early down in the mines. Er, library.
But the server we use to temporarily shelve our files, which we then remove once we are at another computer station, and which thus allows the eager student workers on the scanning project to continue painting the roses red by cleaning up images that are so crappy they should never have been part of an archival collection in the first place, is down.
So here I am, back with you, beloved migrateblog readers.
Please take a moment to visit some of the updated links on this blog. Worth it! Especially Bookslut, which is like literary nicotine for me. Thanks!
Ok. This has nothing to do with birds, I was just looking at your website, revisiting your breath paintings and It was like I was seeing them again for the first time and I remembered how truly fucking beautiful and interesting they are. Art people love to talk about "process" and we love to talk about "the artists hand" etc. etc. So I feel gross tainting and discussion of your breath works with those cliches, but the fact that they render them cliches says alot. In the instance of your breath works, the artists hand is not only literally invisible, it has no concrete substance. It is not the definitive product of something that is uniquely you (the Artist with a capital 'A')...or is it? It is generated by little more than some simple air you took in, and after cycling it through the conduit of your body, let it leave inky foot prints on the way out...By Abbyg., at 8:16 PM
and they are so very lovely to look at.
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