Our household is quiet lately, with Pete working upstate and Aubrey away. I’m taking a break from email and news, from the television, from shopping and (as much as possible) from phones. I’m making art, mostly, and listening to Sate’ and Smetana and Chemical Brothers. I’m visualizing, but I’m not acting on it. Not stopping to scribble notes in my book or making quick sketches to tack up on the studio walls. Not this week. I’ll let them zip on by. Zippity-doo-dah...
Orion and I built a bridge from an eclectic mix of blocks and other items that could be stacked but not very well. We seem to agree that the moment of swaying before the inevitable collapse makes us giggle most. We discovered that grapes don’t make terribly good blocks but rubber rats make passable ones.
Now that the mechanics and electrical work is mostly worked out, Ben and I are beginning the task of building the case for Dark Caravan’s as of yet untitled fortune teller. I look forward to working on this. I enjoy the smell of wood when I’m working it-- the shaping and smoothing. I’d hoped to show this piece at the World Fantasy Convention. I don’t think that will be possible as I’ll be unveiling it miles away at the Franks just the week before. Sooo…I’ll have to think of something else fun for WF.
I was thinking about some possible future where our internet relationships become our primary relationships. Already, I have dear friends with whom I interact solely through the internet. I don’t find my feelings diminished by the medium. But, I look forward to seeing those friends in person and I wouldn’t want to have less physical contact with the friends I can get together with. Touch is good. I like the weight of a real book in my hands. This is where Aubrey would call me “such a hippy” and I would remind her that I was more interested in eating love beads than wearing them, but I do remember life before the internet.
What if some horrible circumstance(or many small ones) made physical contact taboo? What if disease or environment created a need for physical isolation? Or, what if there is no catalysing event and time just marches on? I like cyberpunk just fine, but still, just now, I want to wonder about this for a bit without the hip characters, high tech gadgets and crisp dialog.
At the moment, I’m not interested in fiction. Likely I’ll see the answer when it gets here. I seriously doubt I’ll remember wondering, back here, this summer about this coming to be. I doubt I remember too many of the details of this years political climate (unless there's some galvanizing event) or which sculptures I made.
Probably I’ll remember making bridges out of blocks and rubber rats and grapes.