Why don't I just make art instead of thinking about metadata? Deborah Butterfield makes art, as J shared with me last night, and beautiful art, in the quiet but massive way horses, and maybe elephants, are beautiful. There is always the sense that all of the power contained in their bodies could suddenly come alive, but most of the time they are quiet. Babay and I have both been identified as 'horsey faces,' by various people in our lives.I suppose I don't make art because because I am not an artist. Sometimes I would like to be, though. My new favourite blog, which I discovered on my own and did not snake from Babay, for once, is I Heart Photograph.
Anyway, what is the point of this post except to have that sculpture here? I don't know. I got to e-mails from two people I love telling me that they love me last night. It was a lovely (lovey?) way to start the morning. I wonder if Tini read my last post and what she thinks about my situation now. I bet I could use her perspective, because it will be sure. The more I think about the Russian situation, the more I think, we could grow this way, maybe. He made me a drawing inspired by:
And he took one of my favourites from a series of his drawings and painted it onto a piece of glass, and then etched out the details. It is really beautiful. I almost cried a little bit. And J made a good point: I am bored if I am not provoked (not the right word, but perhaps somewhat appropriate) into maintaining my 'edge,' as the Russian says. We'll see. We'll see.
I have a whole lot of work to do today, so I guess I should get on with it. I want to escape from school. I hope these are hoops that I am jumping through and not what the rest of my life will be like. Fuck professional degrees. Fuck them in the bum.
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