Time seems to be moving faster and faster. Days turn into weeks and things begin to accumulate in my studio. I’m feeling mostly positive about the work I’ve been doing—slogging through formal problems, trying to figure out what exactly my work “ought” to look like. I can’t believe it’s already October. I’m not used to the sort of heat that VA has had until fairly recently and I think it’s throwing off my body clock. I’m also eating less, getting full faster. I sort of feel like I’m disappearing—but it’s into my work that I think I’m going, so I guess thats a good thing. I’ve been trying to act on impulse. I went on a hike last week and found a dilapidated house in the middle of the woods near a river. What used to be the front lawn was scattered with broken children’s toys—big wheels, tricycles, plastic bits. They were covered in brambles and hard to make out, apart until you were almost on top of them. Nearby there were large deposits of quartz. The dirt everywhere was bright red from the iron content in the soil.
I went for a late night drive and got stuck behind the cleanup of a six-car pile-up for almost an hour.
I went grocery shopping and forgot what I was there to buy.
I spent a day in bed while it rained and read a book cover to cover.
My time here so far has been pretty incredible—I think I’m finally figuring out how to really keep and maintain a studio practice, even if that means disappearing into my work.
cute + cool
girl on girl
bitch cowgirl angel
save a horse ride a cowgirl
Isabelle and my future album: “sometimes I think that I am better at being myself in the dark”
a broken swan holding a prickly flower
a broken swan on the floor framing a girl unlocking another girl’s chastity belt
a diary with a lock
charms on the window grates
light reflecting crystals to make rainbows
a girl and a cat
hot pink meshy light
a girl looking at her friends holding a dagger behind her back, her fingers intertwined to keep a tight grip
pennies, flowers, pebbles, orange peels
an orange peel beaded curtain
love letters on the floor
a video on my phone of my me wasted screaming and laughing in Chicago, a video of me screaming in bed then giggling with no clothes on, a video of lots of people dancing with cowboy hats on, a video of two girls playing on construction equipment on the street, they embrace and hold friends, turning around yelling “fuck you Sylvie”
moldy tie dye fabric from all of the rain
ghosts in the sunlight
Feel like I have fully given myself permission to live and work the way that I want to. The exciting thing about “For the Kitchen” is that it is absurd. I do not want to take myself seriously right now. I feel like a bulldozer because everyday I get something done. Everyday I make a list and do not care if I complete all of it. I don’t feel like I have to rush or try to push myself to grow, its just happening quickly. Because I get to spend a lot of time alone and working, my social life feels better. I feel more grounded in my sense of self and that makes it so I can be a better listener.
I’ve always wanted to make music but have been too scared but I made my first album here. It is terrible but I am happy that I finally did it. I started a band with a friend of mine in Chicago and it has given me a lot to look forward to when going back home. Something to work on completely freely.
Been reading about DOCUMENTS, an arts magazine from the 1920-30’s that was edited by Bataille. Its helped me think through “For the Kitchen”. A quote is pictured below.
I’m going through a lot of ups and downs trying to figure out how to keep that permission. But this is really the only thing I want to dedicate my life to right now.
Below is a photo of Recipes the book I’ve been working on for “For the Kitchen” as well as a few places we have been. The Star, Mellow Mushroom, waffles at this place I forget the name of, and Layman farms