Our Imagination working for you!
I’ve fallen victim to addiction of list completion.
Surfing through my workdays, my task list, managing a million little things for the reward of crossing tasks off lists and inching our way ever so close to finish lines. Every once in a while, we cross them. And what’s wrong with that? Not all success is as sweet as making art.
The cadence of the manager’s mode to success makes no time for art. Art is slow. And sometimes flash in the pan fast. Should exploration feel so naughty? On who’s clock can I make this time spent exploring worthwhile? Who’s watching?
I am.
And I caught myself red-handed. Being the task master. Hardly recognizable, I could be shamed by Socrates. I vow to spend a little more time reflecting on other things to do with my pens than strike through, I might even entertain boredom, tedium, and the patterns that emerge in their spacious tempo.
Rachel Brooks and I are configuring it out (hello Style Cooperative). And just in time. This is the last year of the project so-so’s and the resurgence of supa dupa fly. The trials are winding down, the drills are spec’d out, the space beckoned, opened, welcomed and a new race is ready, set, kicking it. Working for makers, we are honoring our craft.
2011 was a big year. Big projects, big challenges, big rewards. Long hours, time warp kitchen. Eaten by the machine (hello Drupal) in an enterprising buffet. The machine has discovered delicious. Such beautiful icing, is it edible? Dare I go for the good stuff? She wonders.
Fuck yes! (Sorry, it’s exciting.) Go for it.
Today is a broken hearted day. Today my skin is not thick enough. It’s cold. But it’s sunny. So there is hope. One of my clients shared this photographer with me: Max Wenger
Beaches and umbrellas bring smiley territory into my world.
I am not sad to see it go. Cool winds blow in a lot of change and remind us how to juggle. It’s exciting to be back to school, new duds and all.
I picked up a class at the Pilsen artist run school Co-prosperity Sphere. Our conversations seriously stretch my mind every Monday night. Seriously. I find myself racing home, the urgency to dig in, to explore the seeds of change bubbling beneath the surface ever mounting.
Last night we chatted with Curtis Mann. He reminded me to be careful with the freedom that ensues from an artistic practice with no pre-conceived agenda. I am hard-pressed to believe that designers are worth their weight in salt if they don’t hone a practice to explore open-ended artistry. The commercial world is fast and furious though. Who has the patience for art? My workspace feels like a time warped vortex as I tip toe up knowing I’m going to come racing out the other end of the day’s light practically on fire, all cylinders glazed, blazed and still going strong. I can barely regroup into a singular focus, there’ll be no lingering in time to savor a meal with my dearhearts, a story bright and beautiful for bedtime followed by a spacious and gracious long rest. All epic failings through my work week.
Who manages to find that time? Who is living that luscious balance between art and business? Who is living for what they’re loving and fearless, relentless in the pursuit of happiness? Whoever you are, you’re my hero.
We chose to camp out in town this 4th of July. Even though Kettle Moraine beckons, it was a welcome long weekend to be a little more rooted in our community. It’s shocking how much the city changes during the holiday exodus; our city drains its rural community contingency and the beach lovers hightail it to the other side, living a little lazy for a nice change of pace.
We were out and about all weekend, shuttling back and forth from the haps on Division to the haps in Millennium Park. It’s such a good time to have supreme fun bubbling up at our doorstep. So much excitement that by day four o’ festivity, the rest of the fam opted for extended lounging –on the sofa… All. Day. Long. I couldn’t stand it. A couple hours in, I had to bust out. After all, it was sunny.
I went over to Millennium Park. Then to the Art Institute. I ambled up onto Pae White’s Restless Rainbow. A throwback to SoCal’s 1960s ‘modernist mecca,’ I love it. I had the same problem up there that I often grappled with while living in Mission Beach, San Diego: too sunny. Often embarrassed to crave cloudy days amid such a beautifully beachy haven, alas I love comfort. Part of me wanted to grab a seat and spend some time chillaxin on the Bluhm Family Terrace psychedelic swirls, but I opted for some shade and earthy elements in the South Garden.
In between, I strolled through to check out a few of the new exhibits. First, Avant-Garde Art in Everyday Life. Classic graphic design. Next up: Uta Barth’s photography. Now this is beautiful. Light, light, light. Soft, peaceful focus. Not so much about the subject, but about the act of perception. It’s quite graceful.
And finally, I lost track of time and space in Eija-Liisa Ahtila’s Talo. I had lost my bustle in Uta Barth’s gallery before stumbling into this screening room, and here I came to complete still. I was drawn into the long, low groan from a ship entering its harbor. The sound reminded me of many a still night wondering about San Francisco. I was a late night creative then, often up working while the city slept. Even living in the Lower Haight, I could hear the ships coming into the wharf at night. Their sound is a comfort. In The House, Eija-Liisa explores the disjointed placement in a world marked by sensory guideposts. Most of us identify our existence based on a reality perceived by our five or so senses, but in this piece the character is drawn from a cohesive singular position in time and space to multiple positions. She explains the dichotomy of sitting with a friend in conversation while also being in a harbor next to a paddle boat. Sort of being in both places, but actually being fully present in neither.
I love this kind of sensory distortion. I’m also intrigued by conditions that can distress mental balance. In some cases, poking and prodding the constructs we find here lead to a breakthrough. In others it’s a slippery slope toward illness and dis-ease. However, I’m often considering these states for their information about the metaphysical, consciousness, intangible dimension, heightened perception and so on. We know the tip of the iceberg, I’m curious about the abyss.
It’s that time of year again! Boy do I love spring cleaning. And we are going big this year. I recently noticed that our huge Lincoln Square flat is at least half filled with things we haven’t used all year. We’ve been really trying to nix the flood of more **things** into our home, and instead invest our time and money in experiences instead of shoppings. It’s a real challenge… I love dresses, shoes and fluffy pillows every bit as much as the next gal, but I love entertainment more. I wish we were so chill… we could just be. THAT might be a pursuit forever in the finding. Fortunately there are so many entertaining (and culturally rich) endeavors in this sweet city of ours, we’re bustin’ out!
But first… the big news: we’re leaving our beautiful Lincoln Square flat behind for some uber chic Ukrainian Village digs surrounded by art, art and more art. It is a significantly smaller space, so project purge has taken hold. I’m having a hard time letting go of so many things, but I can feel the catharsis already. AND I will be rejoining the Fulton Street Collective… couldn’t be more delighted about having a studio walking distance from home.
A couple weeks ago at MSI, I checked out an avalanche exhibit. Since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about how much change can happen as one deep-seated grain starts to shift. It’s such a phenomenon in nature, there’s still tons of active research trying to nail down its science. The concept seems simple enough though, and I notice the avalanche of life happening as we shift the balance of our home, our stuff, our community. I can feel the momentum and look forward to a blissful free fall once we’ve taken the leap or rolled off the edge… whatever those mechanics end up being.
We had a day off on Friday (to kick off a much needed, glorious three day weekend). We trekked down to the Museum of Science and Industry. Most of my attention was spent chasing Anais … she was like a little bandit on sea legs stealing moments of independence in every nook and cranny. I caught a brief glimpse of the deep-seated Body Worlds. The mechanics of the bod are fascinating. Different than physiology, there’s a foremost clarity that I totally get on first glance. It inspires me to be a little more receptive and live a lot more balanced.
*In fact, I made it to 8.30a yoga class on Sunday for the first time in way too long. Lots o’ shoulder work took my rhomboids by storm, a much needed exercise for anyone who spends a disproportionate chunk of her day on the keys.
The yogic exploration of a living body is a nice complement to the staid exploration of a plasticized body. It’s a shame that most our MDs spend so little time training in body mechanics and its impact on overall health and wellness, an actual atrocity that the basis of MD training in human form comes from the examination inanimate studies (corpses! zombies?) Someone should at least take them to the ballet.
Rolling thunder. Fifty degrees. Shades of grey. It’s spring today! The winter flew by, fast and furious. Except Christmas, that was loungy. All in all, yet another sign of a hella good year in Chicago. 2011 is a keeper. A welcome into authenticity, balance and a brave new place to be.
Lupe Fiasco’s album has been frequently on rotation in our diggs for a few weeks now. ‘Till I Get There’ is sweet, endearing… Track by track, ‘Lasers’ is on again, off again. I hope Lupé come to terms with the tangle, quits his label and moves from the Losers to the Lasers to some Anarchy next time.
Top o’ the mornin spring lovers, green lovers, Guinness drinkers! Hope you’re dancing your way to the public house today with all that SPRING in your step. Oooh la la, I LOVE this time of year. There are many days of the year in which I pine for more sultry seasons, more exotic beings and a natural terrain to be reckoned with … but these first bursts of warmth in the Midwest are a true delight. And the white snows of winter are lovely, plus the people are more fun (at least that’s what a friend in Seattle says…) Oh Chicago, you’re a keeper.