Metroing

Without consciousness, without design, without intention
the movement of my body turned into an interesting abstraction
that did best without my control. The art went through my hand,

and I became a part of it, an inside force that acts on me as much

as I act on it.

Wilderness to a Formal Garden

Is it really such a shame to turn what was once so complex into something so mundane? I guess it depends on who you ask;I for one am amazed by Haussan's difficult task. The garden lives and makes Paris renowned, and now what was lost can now be found.

Where am I?

I don't really know, I don't really know at all. When I try to pinpoint it, it slips away, like trying to remember a dream and only feeling its remnants. Sometimes when I'm looking so hard I can't make sense of it. I just keep doing something, almost rhythmically, almost theraputically, almost if I do it over and over again I can will an outcome. I'm trying to find where I am, and I just keep trying.

Hodgepodge and other mixes

Do, just do, just do and feel and see if anything comes out.
Just wait and see if anything does.
While making collages I cut and pasted (which I rarely do by hand) papers I had found, but I found the whole process a little monotonous. However, by the end I was paying little attention to designing and glued until things looked right, felt right, if it did feel right.
In the end, they turned out perhaps as well as if I had planned them.

Found

I found what textures I didn't notice before. Something layered, and with differing degrees of smoothness. Close up, the texture remains with bold lines.

Garden Memory

Like le Noir, if I closed my eyes I could sense the sounds, if I drowned out les voix de gens. When I opened my eyes, everything was more accute. There were colors in flowers I had never seen before. There was so much bequty up close that I could only see from studying it, sitting and looking.

I wish I had more memories of gardens. Once I visit gardens and don't remember more than the overarching details. I wonder why that is.

Dans le Noir

Everything was dark, but I didn't know how overwhelming dark was. Everything had to be felt, I rested my hands on the people next to ,e every so often to see they were still there. I regressed, feeling like a child discovering for the first time through touch and taste to identify.

Blindfold Drawings

I did not realize how much there is to process.
Even if I could draw exactly what was in my head, there was still such an incomplete picture.
And to describe the scenery, I forgot how much there is to describe, that I assumed things I didn't remember to say.
The drawings turned into a sketchy mess, all over the place, no real composition.
I wish I could draw more accurately with a sense of feeling. The idea worked better in theory

Seeing nothing makes me really feel the pen in my hand, holding up the sketchbook concentrating as hard to translate someone's words through my hands to image, almost as slow and scattered as translating French.

Montparnasse

Montparnasse!
small shops
people in cafes sit next to one another looking towards street
beaucoup de fumer
tiny cars, narrow roads, narrow sidewalks, lots of people walking but not in a rush
scooters, motorcycles, Smart cars
There are no benches or sensible places to pull over and take pictures
every so often un jardin ou un arbre, but otherwise no greenery
les cafes; les fleurs; les boulongeries
restaurants-par exemple près quand nous arretons:
Pizza qu Feu de Bois, Amormo, Les Faruetes (cafe et brassier bar), Gastronomie Chinois; Yamito Restaurant Japonais, Restaurant Mexicain