As I relayed on Thursday, I traveled home to New York this weekend to see my folks for the first time since Thanksgiving. It was a very pleasant trip despite the 17 hours worth of travel on Thursday and the delayed travel today. I do not very much mind being in transience however. My mind is left to wander, I am forced to read books that I seldom make time for in my everyday life, and I come up with some of the best ideas that I ever think up.
When I reached Syracuse on Friday morning at a quarter to 3 I was not very tired. I am always filled with the excitement of being home, the thrill of my alma mater, and the rush of not having to work. I started to search for some exhibition opportunities to apply to. I found several that involved long application processes that I bookmarked to complete this week, but really wanted to find something that I could work on while I was sitting in the bus station drinking my swill from Dunkin Donuts, which I am positive was brewed at about 9pm the prior evening.
I settled on a project titled “A Letter to Portugal,” an exhibition focusing on mail art to suggest alternate means of reality to the people of Portugal. I have been very into the idea of mail art and exchange as well as to avoiding value being latched on to artwork, and so this project seemed right up my alley. I promptly thought of my “Today may just be everything you need” piece and decided to do a new text piece that was the Portuguese translation. Fortunately Google provided me with that little tidbit. Although I wonder how accurate that translation is. That makes it even more interesting to me, however, as I wonder about this thought of communication with art. A text based piece can be appreciated as a series of lines of varying weight as well as something that is communicating via words. I suspect that the gap in translations between languages becomes similar to the gap in translation between image and word.
Here is an image of my work station in the bus depot.
I think that I feel more of a predisposition to this type of art making if only because it is something that I can complete on the road. I mailed the project from my home town but really could have stopped at any post office between the bus station and home. It is a process perfectly devoid of designated spaces. My work has become as transient as my soul.
Peace
-Mike