whole earth

For some time now I've been transferring digital video tape to a hard drive for a friend. All of the tapes are home movies, twenty two of them full. A day of capture over several years. I've seen the birth of both her children, trips west with family and a great number of happy moments in parks, pools and playgrounds. She's going to die from cancer, my friend, so her efforts to preserve the works make my process with them all the more intimate. I get to watch because I see them for what they are and I see them through. Plus I do the work, I work at it. At some point she expressed a need for her to turn them into art but I know, at some moment, that this will be my job. Art is movement and this family moves. When I glance at them sometimes in the cold chemical plunge of the studio I see something else because I know them all so well. I know them through hard standards and breakdowns and crisis. I know them through the cold and clouded realities that we construct our lives on. So when I ask Constance what she will do with this stuff I see her happiness. Women are fulfilled with the fullness of family, I think. Men are held restless. Maybe it's best to be transgendered, a Primrose. Maybe its best to travel with nothing and expect nothing and want nothing and only to seek nothing. To experience.

Tomorrow I'm looking for it, electronic media. With mom. A tone of something, now that the tools are just about roadside. I'll keep you posted in the artline...