Up at five in the morning, writing and watching the sun rise.
My apartment is what is called a gunshot or railroad apartment. It goes the entire length of the building and there are two apartments, side-by-side, per floor. I have the windows open and fans at either end and though the air outside is still cool it is humid and I sweat if I try to sleep. My mattress is on the floor and the beads of sweat feel like cockroaches crawling over my body.
So, I'm up and writing about a day that hasn't yet happened.
The response to the post by Greg Ulmer (above) happened because I was looking through the Weschler book on Robert Irwin for the part called "Being Available in Response" but instead I started reading the chapter on "Art and Science" about his experiments from 1968-1970.
Irwin has had two profound influences on me. One is my distrust of photographic documentation because "a photograph would capture none of what the painting was about and everything that it was not about."
The second influence was the installation during his 1977 retrospective at the Whitney called "Scrim veil -- Black Rectangle -- Natural light." It was the first major museum exhibit I remember after moving to New York. The piece was pure perception and difficult to describe but I remember what happened when I walked off the elevator into the fourth floor gallery and that he managed with extreme economy to change the way I viewed art.
The sun is streaming through the front windows and a crow is making noise across the street in the cemetery.