blog.artwells.com

nshrine.com sees a milestone

artwells — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 19:58:17 +0000

Over 25,000 candles have been placed in public shrines (and now private shrines) on nshrine.com. Though it was a public candle in a well-traffic shrine, I don’t feel quite okay about linking directly to it here, as it was a candle of mourning.

So I have mixed feelings about the milestone. Though if you browse a few shrines, you’ll see that there are many playful and even goofy shrines, most shrines and candles are for people to mark or share the sorrows and losses they’ve experienced. So I can’t really jump up and down–”Yay! Another moment of mourning!”–I can be pleased that there’s one more moment where someone expressed something probably best not left unexpressed.

Seeing A Bit Deeper

artwells — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 19:04:41 +0000

I feel pretty confident of my ability to frame a snapshot of a flat snapshot. I’m back to trying to understand how deeper things flatten in the camera. I suppose at some point I should learn how to represent depth well, but for now, I’m just trying to flatten more and more. In this case, I think I took it to an absurd degree. This is a light fixture on a pipe sticking out of a wall about a foot below a medallion.

Going To Have To

artwells — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 20:53:22 +0000

Me: Hold on. Glove.
Flora: Daddy, you don’t have to take a picture.
Me: No, I don’t have to. I’m going to.
Flora: Same thing.

On The Other Side

artwells — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 05:13:56 +0000

I’m looking mostly for provocation to see myself differently. My life has changed a lot lately, and now I need to make even bigger changes. I’m exhausted emotionally and spending most of my time seeing how high and how low the mood swings can go.

I have enough to think about when I walk and though I’m looking, I’m not giving myself the opportunity to see. I snap pictures without really acknowledging what I’m looking at, or thinking about what they mean. After I loose the context and I see them on the screen, I give myself the time then, and I get it, sometimes.

Twitter Weekly Updates for 2008-10-26

artwells — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 23:59:59 +0000

cutting up the stinky tree #
can’t stop listening to this. help #
http://tinyurl.com/32hsjt #
stinkytree==hacked! #
woke up ready, unfortunately that was four hours ago #
with my magic hat and new sandal webbings, I am unstoppable #
stretching #
while falling #
tinker toy catapult ftw, knights flying through the kitchen #
INSOMNIA: CAPSOCK EDITION #
there are times when I wish I didn’t follow @wingmail #

Help Requested II

artwells — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 04:53:42 +0000

After photographing thousands of gloves over several years, I can’t recall ever seeing a removed glove finger all alone. Yesterday I saw the one on the left one block away from my house. The one on the right I saw yoday about twenty five blocks away.

Please make up a meaning.

Finding Ground

artwells — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 04:01:27 +0000

Where and how I fit in has been in a swirl lately. I’ve had plenty to think about, too much to think about.

Normally I look for signs to provoke new thought and to think differently. The most striking things I see now are those that stop thought. A light pole on a freeway bridge next to a bus stop has a twisted, half-painted ground wire. It’s home enough for a cluster of moss. It’s home enough to say ’shhhhh’.

Tying The Horse

artwells — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 21:18:48 +0000

I was listening to Memo From Turner downtown. In between verses a 60s woman walked past and began speaking. I turned to see her among seven or eight bike staples, asking “Is this where I tie up my horse?” Then turning her head upward to ask the clouds threatening rain “IS THIS WHERE I TIE UP MY HORSE?”

(No photo, so here’s a traffic cone.)

Healthy Trick

artwells — Wed, 08 Oct 2008 03:46:28 +0000

I was wandering around, waiting for the phone to ring when I found a great place to talk. As soon as I saw the bench, I saw the coyote. It walked by the bench and then into cover and turned to look at me. I was able to get the camera out before it left.

The space others leave behind by others can welcome us in ways solitude can’t. Knowing that the coyote had been there seconds before made the phone ring clearer and my greeting stronger.

Help Requested

artwells — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 03:21:22 +0000

I’m normally pretty good at making up some sort of symbolic meaning for the junk I find. I’m coming up with nothing solid for this.

It’s a Stanley planer, made in England. I’d guess it’s about 50 years old. Though the blade seems relatively new and sharp the rest is rusty. It appears that the front handle fell off a long time ago.

I’ll take any suggestion. All I’m imagining is “making things flat” and that is uninspiring.