Travels
Vermont Summer
Earth As Friend, Care As Collective, Struggle As Compassion
A beautiful catch-up conversation with my friend Junot has got me viewing photos of this week’s camping trip with new eyes.
As we reconceptualize our ideas of care and stress relief, striving to integrate our healing and fighting work, I feel challenged to question my relationship to this restorative vacation in the redwood forest. Not “question” like browbeat myself about it, but firmly and lovingly investigate my own views.
Do I see these hikes as a kind of spiritual refueling? Do I see them as material for photographs? Do I view the trees and streams and skies as teachers, as providers of wisdom, about impermanence, identity, and borders? Do I see myself as responsible to these paths? These non-wildernesses? Are we in dialogue, or am I looking for an uncomplicated, friendly, comfortable, and shallow “mothering”? Is the earth a being with rights? Is the earth a being beyond rights?
Park
Ryan got two consecutive days off (hooray!), so we’re heading south tomorrow to camp in the forest. Before I go, I wanted to quickly post some images of a park in San Francisco. No better, no worse than the “natural” environments we’re about to enjoy? I don’t know for sure, but the camera helps remind me to pay close attention, regardless of preference.
Zine Week, Day 1: A Rejected Summation by brownfemipower
I’m not really sure why it took me so long to get into zines. Even now I’m not particularly ‘into’ them, to tell the truth — which is strange, considering that I love handmade objects, and I obviously love informal self-publishing. True zine-ophiles (ha! xenophiles!) might cringe at overly broad definitions of the form, but to a layperson like me, the essence of zines seems to be (a) self-manufacture and (b) text and images. Why wouldn’t a blog count? (Unless, of course, you’re a stickler about the handmade-object thing, which, really, I wouldn’t blame you, because as I said, I have a crush on handmade objects.)
Today’s zine captured my heart immediately, not only because it was made by one of my all-time favorite bloggers / writers, who goes by brownfemipower (or bfp for short), but also because it arrived at my home in the mail as a gift, all the way from Ypsilanti, Michigan, accompanied by a beautiful note in sky-blue ink.
View From A Train
Catching up on life. Today was another big day for baby East Bay Solidarity Network. More tomorrow. Love, Katie
Snow Again Today
Three words: art school overload.
Residency is Thing after thing after thing after thing. Intense and ephemeral, like summer camp.
And so I’m grateful for anchors: daily sitting (yay!), checking in with Ryan most nights, and the endless variety of snowscapes.
Good Goddard
Hey friends,
I don’t know if you remember, but I started going to art school. Yeah, like a year ago. I haven’t talked much about it, partly because I took a semester off in order to stay on at the Fools. Now I’m back for my second residency in Vermont. Residency is sort of a week-long, intensive, participatory, interdisciplinary art festival -slash- collaborative curriculum planning workshop. It’s wonderful in all kinds of ways, for all kinds of reasons: including the absurdly beautiful setting.
I say “absurdly beautiful,” and I guess there really is this in-credible dimension, for me, being on campus — almost like being in a lucid dream. Running late for a secret book-making meeting earlier today, I decided to leave the plowed path and take a shortcut over a hill, to the front entrance of one of the little dorm buildings. Somehow I assumed that I would simply walk over the snow. Like it would mostly compress under my boots or something.
Instead, of course, I end up thigh high in powder (not saying much since my legs are short — but still). Do I stop and go back? No. Just kept sloshing through, like, Oh well, guess this is just part of walking in snowy places: stumble-hop-crashing around and getting all soaked in the legs.
My “snow-pas” (oh god, i know) happened to occur just outside the picture-window of the room where my friends were making books. I loved the jolly way they laughed.
Snowed In (By Choice)
Boston. (Roughly.) Glued to the radio for both weather and Egypt. Watching movies; bundling up. Making food; eating food. Lovin’ on a kitt’en. Drinking tea. Sleeping a LOT. And catching up with this one.
January Full Moon Walk
Ryan and I both happened to be in Sacramento again for this month’s Full Moon Walk, which turned into a full moon bike ride (hence his stylin’ reflector vest, and my hard-to-detect helmet) along the short stretch of levee that isn’t privatized.
The camera even began to see in the dark, thanks to a cloudless sky and a tripod on loan from my dear sweet mama.
Next month we’ll be in the Bay for sure. I hope you’ll join us if you’re around!
Makin’ good on our new traditions. Hell yes.
Kloncke 