Having been fully installed as a tiny cog in the giant Auto Parts Corporation Machine of America and Beyond (APCMAB as I will refer to it from now on, in honor of said machine’s love of acronyms that don’t actually spell things) systems, strangers and fantasy are still on the brain.
Post-minimalism (especially my homegirl, Eva Hesse.): There’s still a human touch, imperfections, fragility- all the things I miss in minimalists like Donald Judd’s super-sleek manufactured pieces- while still leaving room to think/breathe. (see also; Felix Gonzalez-Torres) In a related story, someone in my building left a bunch of pencils and a graph notebook in the laundry room, ‘free to a good home.’ I take it as fate.
Art as a documentation of time: Especially as a near obsessive documentation of time. Cody Trepte’s Time Drawings and Erased Photographs for example, where the process of making and the time that passes while making are just as important as the thing itself. (Personally, though, while the Erased Photographs are more relevant to what I’m working on, I really love the Time Drawings for both the process and the finished object.) And of course, I can’t mention obsession, time and love without mentioning Nina Katchadourian and Tim Hawkinson (what you’re looking at is every part of his own body he could see with out a mirror. Love.
Spacey Goodness: Between the stress of moving, and the continual droning of the APCMAB, my mind’s been in outer space. Literally. Red Dwarf? Timothy Zahn’s Star Wars novels? Total Recall? Yes please.
Speaking of APCMAB, I’ll leave you with this example of the professional image I create:
me: Hello sir, is there anything I can help you find today-
customer: -You’re little!
me:er, excuse me sir?
customer: You’re little aren’t you!?
(smoke and mirrors, sir, smoke and mirrors)