Sunday, January 10, 2010

Creatures of the Wind.


I took a spill in traffic today while rounding a corner at a red. It was a spill to the point where my sprawled body and bicycle held up traffic on Donald and Stradbrook for thirty embarrassing seconds. Satisfied with her alignment post bail, I hopped back on and got to Ben's studio only to realize that no one was there for the Rainbow Trout meeting. One hour early and time to kill. Just as I was about to leave, I met this gorgeous Hungarian interior designer/metalworker named John (who despite our sweeping age gap knew many of the same people that I do). We bantered back and forth in Keith Wood's shop while he painted this giant wall sized piece with hot blue beeswax. John told me stories of his young life spent in Italy and his knowledge of European history quieted me completely. I liked the way he talked about Veneza and the way his eyes shone when he spoke of his youth. Oh, sweet youth.

I like days like this. Frazzled mornings, humble moments lying horizontal on the street, dressing warm for cold (cycling with good quality googles has changed my life completely), a team meeting breakfast with my sister and parents, another type of meeting around a food laden table discussing a potentially amazing festival with my pals. I love how some of them sit quiet and others pipe up, filled with piss and vinegar and yet every point (heated or not) is always punctuated with laughter. You are wrong, laughter. That is ridiculous, laughter. Absolutely not, laughter. That is a brilliant point, laughter. We laugh at each other.

Things are up in the air again. This is okay, every thing is going to be okay. I am happy this is the way the new year is shaping itself. While I feel very little control over anything, I am filled to the brim with ambition. Laughter. I wrote to the wind and the wind delivered. Now it is time to hold up my end of the bargain, even if it means walking away from a bunch of things that I love. When John and I were standing the corner of the shop this morning, both of our heads tilted while we consumed Keith's work in progress, without breaking the fixation of his gaze, John said "Meg, let your work decide your life. Quit weighing it, just keep working and the rest will follow". Okay. Laughter. I couldn't agree more. Life will happen regardless, I might as well enjoy it.

Creme and I stood shoulder to shoulder in his basement a few nights ago weighing the possibility of the next few months while our eyes went from the mopeds leaning in wait in the corner, over to the new darkroom being constructed in both of our heads in the other corner. Ho ho ho and a bottle of rum, winter is looking up.

Here are some goals for the next while, just because I feel like penning some:
- darkroom
- cooking
- printing
- cycling
- swimming
- eating
- tuning
- building
- planting
- photographing
- production
- baby holding

"We can do this", I said with conviction.
"I know, I know", he responded.

2010, you devil.

Signing off, Madge-- vice head of Donations/Printmaking/Photography.

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