Saturday. Last night was nice. I had another marathon session making prints and (ta! ta!) hung the Man Ray print. Lee Miller's lips. How many times can I say it? Heaven.
I've been learning over the years why it's necessary to put your photographs up on the walls so you can see them, examine them, think about them, sleep on them and thereby learn at both a conscious and unconscious level. I mentioned I'd done another marathon print making session last night where I went back and looked more closely at photographs than I had when I first took them, loading a number into PhotoShop and blowing them up on the big monitor to get a better look before sending them to the printer. Causes you to see them differently, gives you ideas of other directions. Whether the world appreciates what you're doing or not can't matter, most people can't tell the difference, the idea is to one way or another get wherever it is you're going.
It sounds so artsy-fartsy, my little man, why don't you go kiss yourself on both cheeks? And where, pray tell, are you going?
I have not the vaguest idea as you're so rudely suggesting, an almost universal aspect, I'm told, of the process itself. Still, it's nice to see your energy build and your interest build and your pile of prints build as the wall space disappears under a blizzard of thoroughly clever images.
I often get up on other than a Sunday morning before seven when the café opens and think, well, if I were to hurry I could drive down, park and finish breakfast and the paper before eight when the parking meters take effect. So I hurry up (as I did this morning), go down the stairs to the building lobby where, if I turn right I enter the garage and get into the car, and if I turn left I go out the front door and walk. You'd think if you were planning on turning right and taking the car you'd turn right and take the car every time, but almost always in the lobby I discover the air is cooler and the step has become lighter and I turn left and head out the front door walking. You'd think you'd most often drive, you'd take the car and taking the car in the mornings would become a habit.
I take it you walked this morning to breakfast?
Yes indeed, a bit cool outside for a Californian, but I was dressed to handle it, the sun coming up on the far side of the lake as I returned up the hill to the apartment. Walking up the hill and not dogging it, by the way, getting the blood pumping and the breath running which they say (and they say this over and over, the bastards) is good for your health and your heart. At my age you're aware of your health and your heart. Or have I mentioned this?
I've not been paying attention to the calendar. This is the 15th. Which means Christmas is one week from Monday! Which means I'm driving up to Portland next week! I thought I was leaving the week after. My, my. Sitting here, nothing to worry about, time whizzing by. Or is this a part of the package? Time on your hands, nothing on your mind, suddenly it's Christmas?