I stand in the doorway to the kitchen. My boys curl around the corner wielding two sawed-off nerf shotguns, each loaded with 8 deadly projectiles. They smile at me. I remain nonplussed.
I look over their heads towards the front of our apartment. I tilt my head, raise my arm, and point towards the windows. They both turn their little bodies away from me and look.
I close the kitchen door, locking them in the other room, because they are dumb dumbs and I am and merely dumb.
Playing with Light
The boys and I live in an apartment that is filled with light. I am grateful for the architect, whoever they were 100 years ago, that added so many windows to the unit.
We don’t own the building, which is fine but also a bummer because I am always looking for ways to modify whatever space I’m in, be it a cubicle, metal shop, or home. If I own a space then I can add, move, remove, or leave alone any of the structure. And when I don’t own a space then my options are not necessarily limited so much as they are different, and it’s up to me to be curious about what I can do and then make moves.
Ok. Back to light.
I cannot add or remove any of the windows, but I can play with how the light dances with the room. This takes my mind to Tadao Ando, a Japanese architect that is very thoughtful about light and shadow.
Isn’t that wild? Feels cold, austere, like a myth from the future. Here’s a collage of how light and shadow show up in Ando’s buildings:
My friend Steve pointed me towards Ando. I saw a few photos then took a week-long adventure into whatever I could find, a path that led to me thinking about my apartment with the boys, our windows, and light as a material.
So I started to play.
It’s a good start. I like the direction. I’m working on leaving any analyzation at the door — just make the work as it feels right, put it up, live with it, make 10 more variations if it seems like something is there.
You were wondering about the zinnias. Me too. I looked and took a photo. Now we are each updated.
A guy barged into the AA meeting last night — drunk, 30 minutes after it had started. He said, “This is what an alcoholic looks like! I want you all to see it!”
Everyone looked up at him without saying anything. It takes a lot to truly disrupt a bunch of sober drunks who work the first step which is all about letting go of control. We are all very familiar with disruption
A woman, someone with quite a few sober days under her belt, looked up at the guy and said quietly, “We know,” with a smile. “We all know.”
I thought to myself There I am! He’s a mirror into our pasts and our present. We all see ourselves.
My pal Joe gave me these two nails. He said they came out of an old church that was destroyed by a fire. It’s good for me to keep symbols around of going into then out of the ashes.
With Kit, Age 7, at the Beach
by William Stafford
We would climb the highest dune,
From there to gaze and come down:
The ocean was performing;
We contributed our climb.
Waves leapfrogged and came
Straight out of the storm.
What should our gaze mean?
Kit waited for me to decide.
Standing on such a hill,
What would you tell your child?
That was an absolute vista.
The waves raced far, and cold.
‘How far could you swim, Daddy,
In such a storm?’
‘As far as was needed,’ I said,
And as I talked, I swam.
Stories are storehouses. Truth silos. Let us be caught by stories. Take them in. Analyzing comes later. First, simply experience. Understanding comes later.
This is a freedom for me. When I’m reading a book or a poem or looking at a painting or a sculpture, often a thought of, “I don’t understand,” comes in, then a thought and a feeling that I’m stupid or that the book/art is stupid. That’s the wall. That’s my mind closing the door.
Instead, if I can, I can say no thank you not right now to those thoughts, then I can take in the story and let it work. No need to understand. No need to analyze. Ahhhh now I can breathe. All I need to do is take it in. Read it through the book. Sit with the sculpture. Let my body feel what it feels. That’s it.
Zinnia seeds are in the window planter — hopefully they will welcome the hummingbirds.
Stay tuned to this station for all of your big hummingbird energy news.
🚨Hummingbird Migration Update🚨
The ruby-throated ones are about to cross into the great states of Illinois and Indiana.
There it is. Linseed oil soaked in for a day. There’s something of magic and mystery in that oak.
White oak bed frame progress —
dry fit before sanding and pre-drilling
Torching the wood for a shou sugi ban finish. After burning I wire-brushed the charred oak then drenched it in boiled linseed oil. Last steps will be to apply a few coats of conversion varnish to fully seal it.
