c.

Artemisia not Orazio

2008-04-21T19:22:33Z

On us: we both enjoy Caravaggio and Gentileschi, but he is more drawn to Gentileschi. My personal preference, as well as his, is more significant than I could have ever realized. He first saw me in a sleeping in front of a Turner, but I first laid my eyes on him over the top of The Economist. He still teases me for not choosing something "more appropriate."

All I have ever truly wanted is to be [for eternity] his and their little teacup. Une petite tasse de thé wobbling along any place.

coate @ 2008-04-18T18:31:00

2008-04-18T22:50:36Z

The Dinner Party Installment, Judy Chicago, 1974-1979

I would be interested in creating a fitting place in an limited amount of space for every one of my theoretical guests, for personalization has always appealed to me. I have some names in mind, but I am still caught up in drawing up a list... who would you choose to invite to a dinner party such as the one that Chicago presents? The chosen ones need not belong to the realm of notable female artists, naturally.

I might use this again for bits and pieces.

18, Crazed Enamel

2007-09-02T13:04:19Z

The fall that I have taken into September required me to proceed gingerly. I turn seventeen today and will attempt to set two resolutions to keep. I would like to keep a proper paper journal so that I can record details to turn back to when I forget what I hold store by; There are times when reminders are essential. The second resolution is to pay attention to my palate. I wish to observe the undertones in flavour and the layers that open up to reveal the unexpected.

1, A Remedy

2006-08-22T14:42:10Z

I enjoy airports. I like it when they are sleepy -- when the escalators seem to be moving in slow motion. There are areas in the airport that are almost silent and I find that I can walk around for an eternity without coming across another person. The distance from such an area to the centre of the terminal is lost on me.

Despite the fact that some of my loneliest moments were spent with crowds of people, the heart of a busy airport is something I find solace in. The next time that I am feeling truly lonely, I will go to the nearest airport and wait at the arrivals gate and watch people go past. I will start reciting [silently] all the capitals of countries in the world that I can remember while reading unsent letters [I have started to write letters to certain people from my past] that are inside envelopes which are attached to the pages of a notebook. The letters will remain in the notebook until a specific date or if I get hold of addresses that are up-to-date or until I meet the person whom the letter is addressed to. There are also a few that I’m undecided on. Whether or not I’ll end up closing the envelope, putting on a stamp, and sending it off depends on chance. Perhaps I’ll flip a coin.

Chances are that I will make up life stories about the people passing by, simply because it is something which I do quite often [but this time I will be doing it alone]. With people moving around [in and out], there is always a new subject to focus upon.

Waiting outside the arrivals gate is somewhat of a mystery to me. I will think of it as a role reversal.