I'm on my third lap around the gallery, and have reached chapter 11 of the book of Revelation, which means that I'm half way done. The glass alternates between being half empty and half full, depending on my mood. Right now, with the sun shining brightly in Bushwick and a decent amount of caffeine thrashing through my system, the assessment is that it's half full. Ask me later tonight, when my neck looks like it belongs on a Parmigianino Madonna, and I may have a different answer for you.
Today I'll execute my third trek across the ceiling, the dreaded Khyber Pass of my installation. It's not self-loathing that makes me do this--it's the architecture of the gallery. The line of type is continuous, so it has to go up a wall, across a 36" stretch of ceiling, and then down the other side, eventually creating a large circle of type. There's not a lot of oxygen up there, and it's just about the most unfun thing I can think of to do on a glorious Sunday afternoon. I thought about hiring a sherpa, but it's not the load that's heavy, it's the task. Another possibility is to apply a line of glue where I'd like the type to go, then throw a handful of pre-cut letters onto the ceiling and see what sticks. After all, who's ever going to read this??
I think what might be my salvation today is Kevin and Ellen, the owners of the gallery. They were there last night while I worked, and are terribly entertaining. At first they were a distraction, and my nose was slightly disjointed that they were imposing havoc on my concentration. But at some point it dawned on me that I was actually have fun, instead of my usual isolation tank of misery. Ah, sweet jollity, while I work! Gad, what a pair. A few drinks and they're like Laurel and Hardy. I think I'm falling in love them, if that's not too weird.
Okay, I'm off to the gallery. I figure I'll head up the incline by 3:00, be midway through the Pass by 4:00, and should summit around nightfall. Assuming that the border guards are friendly, my neck and I should cross over into Central Asia by 7:00. We'll send you a postcard to let you know we arrived safely.
Enjoy your Sunday!
Don't forget to stop at the Oxygen Bar before you head into the pass. Looking forward to the post card, assuming it doesn't get lost in the mail. I think you might be able to hire yourself out as a sherpa when you're done! Safe travels.
ReplyDelete"Another possibility is to apply a line of glue where I'd like the type to go, then throw a handful of pre-cut letters onto the ceiling and see what sticks. After all, who's ever going to read this??" -- The Zenith of wild abandon...
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-Your trusty sherpa
There must be *something* a cranky contemplative like me can bring to this journey! How 'bout my bottle of Amaretto - works exceptionally well in high altitudes. And perhaps a St. Bernard in case we get lost...? :)(she says panting and wagging her tail...) I know! I can be your personal masseuse for that pesky neck... See you on the "other side." CC
ReplyDeleteThank you ZD, Leslie, and CC! I accept the offer for a virtual massage.
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Watch out Meg...We're all heading to Bushwick for the grand opening.
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-Leslie