Spring morning walk on a perfect and perfectly lit day, a dreamlike sort of day where trees have perfect circular shadows underneath them (seeming to interrogate you - why don't you, human, float around atop your very own perfect punctuation mark?) and fields have this kind of magical-realist aura that begs you to film them. A slightly uncomfortable kind of warm day that makes you consider what tranquility is if not this. Of course by around noon it had become unbearably hot and the shadows had all shifted back to the places and forms I always see them in but that they now don't seem to belong in. Odd that the morning and the evening are really the only periods that seem to feel how the "day" is supposed to feel, the period of refuge and light and comfort - but they aren't really the day, are they? Most things happen in the afternoon.
Holiday mornings are always weird - although there is always a kind of isolated feeling on an average weekday morning, a bit after most people have arrived at work - there's still people around on mornings like those, but they're quieter than usual, quieter than they should be. Today, similarly, very few people and very quiet people - the 'different' feeling may have come from the fact that cars were just as few and quiet. That fleeting morning silence made me realize more deeply than usual how relentlessly active a city, even a smaller one, constantly is. And as the temperature got warmer, there were more and more cars on the road - everything uncomfortable always seems to be linked in this way.
I began to ask myself "what am I forgetting?" but what am or was I remembering? Glowing dreamlike Memorial Day morning and I still don't know what I was remembering (or trying to remember? celebrating the ability to remember? what part of memory is this holiday making time for?), what hidden bit of the world my mind was feeling fondness for to find beautiful radiance in what is essentially urban summer hell - the blue sky always looks like a haze when you're surrounded by car dealerships and gravel parking lots and interstate overpasses
Film: To Sleep with Anger
Album: Blue Tarantella
Book: Color Harmony for the Web
Painting: Paul Winstanley "Man Watching T.V."