24 JUNE 1997
(posted to the Documenta X Blast Forum on Spatial Articulation)
I live in what is called a shotgun or railroad apartment in New York City. There are ten apartments in my building with two apartments per floor. My neighbor is named Jon and we rarely see each other. I live on the top floor. I've lived here since 1982 and though my rent is considered reasonable it is a constant problem for me. I live here alone.
The space is four rooms, each leading into the other. Two large rooms with two small rooms between.
The front room is my "studio" where I am working on a series of panels called "Odysseus" based on my first glimpse of Jones Beach State Park and the manifestations of that glimpse. There are two exterior windows, one has an air conditioner. The room desperately needs painting and the ceiling in one corner is discolored from water leakage. I have my files and old work stored here in no particular order. One wall has plaster falling down.
The next room is my "computer" room where I maintain artnetweb, edit the artnetwebINDEX, write a column for Inteligent Agent and other computer-centric things. It is about half the size of the first room and has an interior window to the front room. One wall is a bookshelf filled with books in no particular order. The rest of the room is the clutter of current projects on collapsable picnic tables.
The next room is my living room, the same size as the computer room, and has my futon, TV, a lamp to read by and a chair to throw dirty clothes.
The next room is the same size as the front room and is basically a kitchen with a bathroom off to the side. I have a table there where I throw mail and consider it a kind of office but don't spend much time there. There is an interior window to the previous room. There are two exterior windows and one leads to a fire escape.