Sunday, October 01, 2006
DAY TWENTY-SIX: PROVIDENCE VI
Art, not brunch, gets us out the door today: free admission at the RISD Museum until 1:00. There is a show about the local art scene from the past 10 years. Eight artists are highlighted in one room, while another section displayes over 2000 posters, floor to ceiling. They advertise rock, art, and other nutty events. Many were screen-printed, handmade, or original works. It was like walking in to a time capsule. I lived here for only three of those 10 years, but I can place myself exactly in the advertised event by seeing the poster.
I collected some at the time because I knew the poster artist or the bands playing. It was overhwelming, visually and psychologically. I can't leave until I find the poster for an event that is burned in my memory as the iconic Providence summer night.
(inside Jungil Hong's piece)
Jen and I eat brunch at Julian's and flirt with the waitstaff, especially our giggley waitress. Our repoire today is us at our best: scattered, tangential conversation that makes little sense and is filled with performance and bursts of laughter. Oh, and food. Lots of hovering over food. And writing down brilliant ideas.
Then there's an opening to attend at AS220, the multi-facetted arts center downtown. Scott runs the Community Darkroom there, which is how we met. My life was once very connected to AS220. I run into a bunch of people I used to know. I can't tell if I regress back to the person I once was, or just feel a distance from the experiences I had with them. Geoff Griffin, ensconsed in his harem of girls, flits about in fatherly involvement. The artist, Sonny, a.k.a CW Roelle, has a wire illustration piece in today's NYTimes Magazine. I'm mostly too tired to do much interacting.
Scott makes scallops and vegetables from their garden. We watch "Y Tu Mama Tabien." I'm entranced by the narrative tricks this time: how the narrator toys with our trust, telling us seemingly extraneous information, while he omits essential ones.
For all my pondering over the nature of Jen and Scott's relationship, I believe in it. Because I see they do.
Art, not brunch, gets us out the door today: free admission at the RISD Museum until 1:00. There is a show about the local art scene from the past 10 years. Eight artists are highlighted in one room, while another section displayes over 2000 posters, floor to ceiling. They advertise rock, art, and other nutty events. Many were screen-printed, handmade, or original works. It was like walking in to a time capsule. I lived here for only three of those 10 years, but I can place myself exactly in the advertised event by seeing the poster.
I collected some at the time because I knew the poster artist or the bands playing. It was overhwelming, visually and psychologically. I can't leave until I find the poster for an event that is burned in my memory as the iconic Providence summer night. (inside Jungil Hong's piece)
Jen and I eat brunch at Julian's and flirt with the waitstaff, especially our giggley waitress. Our repoire today is us at our best: scattered, tangential conversation that makes little sense and is filled with performance and bursts of laughter. Oh, and food. Lots of hovering over food. And writing down brilliant ideas.
Then there's an opening to attend at AS220, the multi-facetted arts center downtown. Scott runs the Community Darkroom there, which is how we met. My life was once very connected to AS220. I run into a bunch of people I used to know. I can't tell if I regress back to the person I once was, or just feel a distance from the experiences I had with them. Geoff Griffin, ensconsed in his harem of girls, flits about in fatherly involvement. The artist, Sonny, a.k.a CW Roelle, has a wire illustration piece in today's NYTimes Magazine. I'm mostly too tired to do much interacting. Scott makes scallops and vegetables from their garden. We watch "Y Tu Mama Tabien." I'm entranced by the narrative tricks this time: how the narrator toys with our trust, telling us seemingly extraneous information, while he omits essential ones.
For all my pondering over the nature of Jen and Scott's relationship, I believe in it. Because I see they do.
