In 1975 the Dutch conceptual artist Bas Jan Ader set sail from Cape Cod on a single-handed crossing of the Atlantic as part of what would be his final work, entitled In Search of the Miraculous. His vessel, the thirteen foot long Ocean Wave, was the smallest craft in which such a feat had been attempted. Three weeks into the voyage radio contact was lost, and ten weeks later the Ocean Wave was found partially submerged West-Southwest of the coast of Ireland, Ader’s intended destination. He, however, was never seen again. Read the rest of this entry »
Archive for the ‘Night Driving’ Category
June 15th, 2010
Don DeLillo’s White Noise was published in 1985, went on to win the National Book Award, and thrust him into the forefront of a vague movement called ‘postmodern literature’. I have never truly understood what this label means. Postmodernism in literature and art, in architecture and criticism has certain elements in common, but nothing binding, nothing constant, and maybe that is the point. At its core, postmodernism highlights the recursive, fractured thoughts that plague us as members of advanced capitalist societies: truth is relative to the observer, we are alone in a crowd, and the devices we use to create a sense of community or identity only serve to drive us further apart. We buy things that in turn try to sell us a semblance of self parceled out in neat monthly payments of 19.95. Read the rest of this entry »
May 7th, 2010
Change is never easy. Whether it is the yearly confusion surrounding seasonal shift or a major alteration in fortune, change takes us all by the scruff of the neck and wags its finger in our faces. Through its clumsy reminders we are forced to accept that we are finite, that we own nothing absolutely, and that we must make the best use of the time that we have. I believe that an approximation of personal peace can be attained by acceptance that flux is the only constant, and that in the end, the details are everything. That said, sometimes you just have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and keep going. Read the rest of this entry »
February 23rd, 2010
There is an end to everything. When I moved to New York City in 2003 I was 22 and mostly stupid. Having just graduated from art school, I was still laboring under the misapprehension that the world owed me a living, that my friends would always be my friends, and that I would be young for a long time. Those first six months were probably the hardest time I’ve ever had. I was seriously poor, working jobs that were detrimental to my health and my self-esteem, sometimes barely scraping up enough change to eat, and just wrapping my head around the fact that my previous four years’ experience in no way prepared me for life in the ‘real world’. Read the rest of this entry »
January 29th, 2010
Deep winter is a tough time to live in New York. No one much feels like going out to brave the squalling wind and snow, especially for a drink in a hot, crowded bar with people so bundled up they resemble haystacks. February tends to be the month that we all burrow down into our skins and make a ream of plans that we have no real intention of carrying out, or research dream vacations that we will never be able to afford. Read the rest of this entry »
November 30th, 2009
Last week I was in southern California, driving around, trying to get a better idea of what constitutes American identity. It’s pretty amazing that this country is so incredibly diverse and yet manages to be cohesive enough to aspire to a national archetype. Landing in LA, the tall palms swaying against dry air, I felt as far away from New York as I did in Finland. Read the rest of this entry »
May 10th, 2009
…another in an occasional series.
White Horses, 1984, directed by Vladimir Grammatikov
I’m sorry, you know, but I had no other options. I didn’t mean for you to come here. But now you are here, you must help us. We can’t last much longer. With these words, White Horses begins its odd, uneven adventure. Roundly panned in the mid-eighties as too incomprehensible for children and too idealistic for adults, this Swedish adaptation of an Italian children’s novel quickly fell into obscurity, though it deserves further notice at least for its incorporation of all the classic eighties fantasy film conceits. Read the rest of this entry »
March 12th, 2009
Without further ado, I bring you the first of (hopefully) many Imaginary Soundtracks:
In Jakarta, Andreas Brezchs, 1987 Read the rest of this entry »
January 11th, 2009
A long silence, a new year, and many changes coming. January wears into February, as the cold settles in. Back in the city, for what it’s worth, shuttling between heated houses as quickly as possible and planning for the eventuality of another, warmer, season.
I have been feeling extremely uninspired to create anything, and though I’m sure it is a by-product of winter, the lack of tangible results in my life is beginning to nag. I know in talking to my friends that this is not something unique to me; it is a widespread, insidious feeling lately. This could be due to the obvious downturn in everyone’s fortunes, of course, but I wonder if the hangover doesn’t run deeper than that… Read the rest of this entry »
December 10th, 2008
As the weather grows steadily colder, the light more grey, and the last leaves fall off the trees, living in a city becomes noticeably, well, geometric. Without any real organic presence, glass, metal, and cement are the materials that make up the bulk of everyday existence. I always wondered why city dwellers dressed so differently from people who live in rural areas, or even in suburbs. Every time I get off of a flight in a Southern airport, one of the first things I notice is the profusion of pastels (and fleece– ha.) worn by people not-of-the-city. However, being here in the winter solves some of the mystery, sort of. What are the main colors of New York in winter? Grey, black, white, brown, and brick red. Read the rest of this entry »
