I took this snapshot last May in a make-shift studio during a residency. This is when I had a chunk of Time to make things. I saw and bought the book at a library sale the first week I got into town. I wanted to place it where I'd see it everyday. In doing so, I would remind myself that Time is a gift (one that I had received in being there).
Now the picture looks and feels distant. It is Fall. I run around working, teaching, seeing people - managing the city and myself. Most people do it. It is a wonderful, tiring and energetic frenzy, which is in part the reason I always come back. A lot gets done in a day. But it can take away from Time. Time for working on my work- in the studio, in writing, in being outside. Today I decided to make Time after finding this picture again. I will write four letters after I write here. I will rest, and attempt to re-set my work on my work mind.
Time is always there. Long spans of a residency or a day alone in the studio or when an idea happens sitting on a bus. This is hopeful. It means the work is always there, always being done. Maybe not in a physical / tangible way, but it is present when I am writing imaginary plans, or waking up to record a surreal spacial dream, or making a list of shows I want to see, or bumping into a horrid or beautiful thing.
