I wait for angels and magic, for social activity that I\u2019m not seeking, not schmoozing, not broadcasting, without benefit of Instagram, without being the least bit hep, I\u2019m even punked out of my camera by the keeper of my own personal business, \u00a0Apple, who ratchets down the quality of my last-year’s phone camera so that I’ll become increasing unable to pepper my thoughts with snazzy images. \u00a0Soon I won’t be able to live without the new phone camera. \u00a0I hope to limp along with this one until i can get the .oops-sorry-about-that version.<\/p>\n
There is this social flutter that goes on, and I have been remote, inside the studio, by self in Russia, in sticks of Kentucky, out west, in the blue ridge mountains, navigating the kinder softer world of Fine Craft, with its less straight-faced crowd, a level of silliness down from the fine art world. My own history is a repeating investigation of how we make it up as we go along, how we get to decide what we want to create. Your own experience, my own experience. I’m willing to get out to the shows and be friendly, and I\u2019m also certainly willing to read fortunes, and definitely willing to make sculpture with its myriad difficulties. I\u2019m reading fortunes in the center of the installation. I\u2019m just doing that, and i\u2019m making\u00a0the buzz necessary to generate a modern level of attention\u00a0with\u00a0alliteration,<\/p>\n
beginning February 2015. \u00a0I make the experience. the I makes the experience. Isn\u2019t that what\u2019s visible in the Gertrude Stein canvas tote bag?<\/p>\n
I wonder if subtle demotions in photographic quality are supposed to be subconscious<\/a>, and whether Apple would cop to them, or even brag about it, perfecting the ways the device will deteriorate so you have to buy a new one, like colored toothbrush bristles, and cardboard ford motor parts. \u00a0but you can’t\u00a0sell<\/em>\u00a0digital communication, \u00a0you have to seek its vehicles. \u00a0sometimes Dick<\/a> makes me do puzzled face. I meant to type *sell, you have to sell<\/em> its vehicles, its devices, and channels, and permissions. \u00a0and so these things must be made to expire. \u00a0and before you plink your finger in the air decrying that in just a few years you will print your own<\/em> damn phone, ‘digital printing of the digital phone!’ i say, meh, permissions is where it’s at. \u00a0if the photographic quality can be turned down little by little by way of the shape of the communication, by way of the information it carries, ergo hackers rule the world. \u00a0you don’t beat The Man by sneaking away, you beat him by becoming him.<\/p>\n “This is the only way I can do it”\u00a0like peering for a cure, for a prayer, through the tiny lens in the heart of a plastic Guadalupe, that reveals in minuscule view master viewer 3-D, herself again inside.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I wait for angels and magic, for social activity that I\u2019m not seeking, not schmoozing, not broadcasting, without benefit of Instagram, without being the least bit hep, I\u2019m even punked out of my camera by the keeper of my own personal business, \u00a0Apple, who ratchets down the quality of my last-year’s phone camera so that … Continue reading alliteration<\/span>