016 / Saturday, April 4th, 2020

“Even in her real privacy, in her dressing room or in her alcove apartment, she is never purely alone, but playing the part of alone for some invisible watcher. Her stage partition and parasol are even the same Chinoiserie print, so that walking to buy cigarettes or milk she can’t escape the feeling of standing onstage, dropping the green-glinting feathers in a fluffy pile, a loose feather or two detaching to float by itself. The boundary between her private life and publc life has blurred, as has the boundary between engaging her body only in intimate pleasures with people she trusts, and using it as an object she owns. She suspects these boundaries are delicate and probably can’t be repaired. But this is on some level a relief, to a girl who believes only in the present, and certainly not in guilt. There’s no use fretting, or attempting to fix what cannot be.” —Rachel Kushner from The Strange Case of Rachel K

First read in the desert over a year ago, January, my body love-bruised and blissful, greeting the dawn with Cafe du Monde. The silence of the desert. The silence of him still asleep in the next room. Reread now, all these months later, a different silence but the same dawn. My body still love-bruised, still blissful, my own.







015 / Friday, April 3rd, 2020




014 / Thursday, April 2nd, 2020





013 / Wednesday, April 1st, 2020





012 / Tuesday, March 31st, 2020






011 / Monday, March 30th, 2020

“In any case, Simonetta’s portrait was created only after the young woman’s unexpected death on April 26, 1476; on the basis of style it can be dated to the 1480s. The picture type of a young woman with bared breasts is neither unprecedented nor limited to pictures of courtesans, as is frequently maintained.” —Ulrich Pfister, ‘Ambiguities of Personalizing the Nude’ in The Renaissance Nude





010 / Sunday, March 29th, 2020
 
The Star (XVII), Major Arcana 




009 / Saturday, March 28th, 2020

“I felt crazed, as china is crazed, with tiny fissures. In a deeply unsettling realization, I began to see that I had used the process of art not only to contain my intensities but also to exorcise those beyond my endurance...” —Anne Truitt from the Preface to Daybook: The Journal of an Artist
 




008 / Friday, March 27th, 2020

day eight, the love corner





007 / Thursday, March 26th, 2020





006 / Wednesday, March 25th, 2020





005 / Tuesday, March 24th, 2020

“In the midst of developing my Kinetic Theater works, I began an erotic film, Fuses (1965), because no one else had dealt with the images of lovemaking as a core of spontaneous gesture and movement...” —Carolee Schneemann from Notes on Fuses, 1971




004 / Monday, March 23rd, 2020

an email to Kes, 8:07pm:
“At any rate, I'm allowing myself to move beyond that right now and make photographs unburdened by language. It's forcing me into a more direct confrontation of my body as the primary tool, which I think is precisely what I've been seeking. The immediacy of digital [photography] has been a blessing but I miss the accidents of films--light leaks, color bleeds, being able to throw a roll in apple cider vinegar for twenty minutes and just see what the hell might happen. Etc, etc. I keep trying to figure out what my analogous digital process is... right now it feels immediate and fluid but also very, very clean.”




003 / Sunday, March 22nd, 2020


asking,
what is the role of pleasure in a time of despair?

“My grandmother, born Annette Margolis in 1907 to a well-to-do Jewish family in New York, was one of those artists whose work was fundamentally shaped, and life radically altered, by her encounters with the Mexican masters. She was a cultural boundary-breaker in an age of fearfulness and isolationism. She was a sexually confident woman who fell in and out of love with impressive, sometimes domineering men, while never allowing herself to become dependent on any of them. Above all, she was a productive and independent artist who lived by Miles Davis’s creed that ‘an artist’s first duty is to himself’ - or herself - come what may.” —Bret Stephens from Lessons from My Grandma on Art, Sex and Life




002 / Saturday, March 21st, 2020

Lykke Li, on her songwriting process:
“I think for me, because I’m always writing very close to home and to heart, it’s almost like the experience has to happen first. So I am aware, okay, this is really intense. And then I feel that for awhile. And then suddenly these phrases or words start popping up...”





001 / Friday, March 20th, 2020

day one, the smell of rosemary