Camp Long is an uncrowded park off 35th in West Seattle. It’s got trails that wind through tall trees, some attractive ponds, a handful of cabins, a climbing wall, a very cool WPA era visitor’s center, and a big meadow for events. I was in an imaginative state of mind while walking through there with my pal B, there was something about the mossy rocks and bright green color of the water, something about the magical early fall light, that made me feel like we were walking around inside a Miyazake animation.… continued…
You’re not supposed to touch the Richard Serra in the Olympic Sculpture Park, but it’s marked with perfect white pairs of hand prints anyways. There are a few shoe prints too, which I find somewhat disrespectful, but I can appreciated the desire to press your hands on the monumental rusty steel waves. I wonder if Richard Serra cares about the hand prints or if he’d think they add to his work.
I love this piece, I love walking through it and feeling the gravel crunch under my feet, I love walking right to the sharp edge and looking up at the sky, I love the streaky lines the rain has left on the surfaces and the way it’s placed in a low spot below a big round glass sided building.… continued…
The great thing about being unemployed — okay, one of the great things — is the amount of time it frees up for reading. I’m oh-so-bookish and it’s been really nice to finally plow through the piles of reading material that’s stacked up next to the bed. And one of the fun things about being bloggy is that I’m on the receiving end of lots of media — I get books and CDs and music to review.… continued…
It’s been a while since I’ve done any kind of gallery related stuff. In spite of my art school edumacation (What, you didn’t know I have a degree in painting and drawing? I do!) and my many years of perching in under-heated and under-ventilated studios where I made a mighty attractive mess, I’ve never been too keen on the gallery scene. The reason is, I think, the divide between the people that make art and the people that buy it.… continued…
A long time ago, a very, very long time ago, clams had feet. They could walk everywhere — just like everybody else. And they were kind of nosy and extremely curious. They were especially interested in humans. You’d be getting home from work and the clams, they’d be watching while you told your family about your day. You’d be brushing your teeth and if you looked down, a clam or two would be standing there, waiting to see what you’d do next.… continued…
