I feel temporary, the impulse of time's momentum relative to my actions, like I'm sifting through peanut butter, my thoughts fall like concrete from my ear to break my foot, the opposite of amnesia.
I recognize myself as an animal, most, in my impulses. And I think trying things over and over to eliminate mistakes is an evolution we can benefit from in our lifetime. So I am in love with momentum, and feel like a caged animal when I come to an unfamiliar point and don't know which way to go. I am learning the graceful way of going back the way I came, or leaving the path altogether. Some may call it quitting. But we are too temporary to attribute meaning to all of our mistakes. Sometimes patience prevails. Sometimes things are plain wrong. I am learning when to stop, abandon ship, give up, or quit in whatever connotation the situation requires. The truth is, leaving is movement.
Here is one thing I decided just won't work, for now.:
It was going to be a comprehensive catalogue of all the techniques I learned in my undergrad.
I was pretty far along in documenting the process, and close to finishing this task.
It's made from an old music techniques book, some of the record books that have pockets in which to hold the records, davey board, and fabric. I planned on finishing the
cover with an image transfer of the altered cover with my name, new title and content in place of the old technique book's title, and content.
I will return to this project, with a strong foundation for format, and a better understanding of durability in construction. I am really interested in categorizing information in the most efficient, usable form. For now, though, I am in Australia, working on a smaller scale, with ideas I can hold in my hands, while my mind takes in everything else.
