Honesty: A Weekend in Western Mass

"a sunset in dallas, tx that reminds of western mass"

. . .

I feel the need to be honest. This will come later.

Tonight is the final night that I reside with the family of a friend from Harvard in Windsor, Massachusetts.
During my stay, I had a large and comfortable bed, enough food to fill me at every meal, and air so fresh that it seems to have rolled directly from the coldest mountain top. It goes without saying, but here I am to say it, that I am very content.

The best that I can do about telling anyone what I did here is make a list right out of my head. For starters, the first morning I woke up in Windsor I could see trees rolling beyond trees until each row faded into the blue, that hazy blue that means natural things are far away. All of the tree, I mean it, all of them were covered in transparent ice like how a soldier is wrapped tight in armor. It was the most magnificent site I have ever seen. The sun when it came out sent white careening around every branch, making each row of frozen arbor shine like battalions made of transparent sea-glass.

By contrast, the inside of their home was warm and felt like a real home, even to me, a stranger there. As a sign of gratitude, I wrote up a short poem about their home, titled Pocket of Fire. I figured it would be appropriate or ironic to leave it tucked just noticeable between two pages of short poems by Robert Frost, found in a book on the shelf in the guest room. I hope that they find it soon but more to say that I hope they like it.

Though the air up here is fresh as fish and my mood is high, the cold is formidable up here. I am proud to have found and purchased such a reliable coat (corduroy with a furry interior) for such a bargain ($25). Even so, my body at any given moment is more stiff than I prefer. I am afraid to turn my upper back against my lower, to pop it, because I know that my muscles will probably settle in another uncomfortable manner. I enjoy the cold, though I am not too sure why, but I was brought up in the Texas heat and I don't think that's changing in four years.

Here is the honesty that I promised. I am kind of surprised that right now I am typing in a box that will post to my blog. It is difficult to articulate why, I think because there are so many little reasons that mean more than their size. For instance, it took a trip to rural Massachusetts to realize how important a role television can play in my daily happiness and my mood. Did I feel it was garbage? Certainly a lot of it, yes, but it also is a great means to an easy laugh. Why neglect that?

Not everything has to be done and feel so important, which is a mindset that I feel I have acquired since being at Harvard. There are always two sides to perspectives like this one, though. Some of the time work needs to happen just as often as some of the time nothing needs to happen. The more I think about it, the more I am starting to believe that the nothing is necessary. Doing nothing and needing to do nothing creates a nice space, a mental availability that is not a very scarce resource at Harvard and yet for me so rare to come by in a satisfying way. See, it is already happening. This little thing of doing nothing has already gotten to mean more than its size in words.

After some thinking, I feel that I only need to close with a few simple words that contain enough truth to move by:

I write by hand in a book, preferably the same book, but I also type into the Internet.
Facebook is exactly the place for my streams of consciousness, where others can float and swim, too.
It is good to have more than enough time to do work; a flexible work schedule is much more enjoyable.
I don't need to be methodical or consistent with my blog, even though I might like to be.
The things that bring me close to home are the things that make me happy.
I really, really love everything about trees. This is important.

in good tidings,
rossi

Desires, Desire

Diary

"How I have wanted to write in you,

put my words to the pixels in you 

exactly every note:

So much has happened since

and I feel the tension you sense.

alas, a longer wait?

But it all will not even fit,

that on which Minds sit,

queerest curious quandaries.

Thus I beg, do not ask me "And so?" 

For I especially do know

that for a time, this time

elsewhere the rest must go."

rossi lamont walter

Quick Update

Last night, during a conversation with a bright friend of a friend in Pforzheimer House,

I realized that I have danced 12-15 hours a week on average for most of this semester.

astounded,

rossi

Journal de la Semaine, 9-15 Octobre

9me – 15me

Su           Weston, Connecticut: beautiful trees make beautiful landscapes. 

M            Weston, Connecticut: spending time with Robert driving is just like times at home.

T              Weston, Connecticut: Robert has gotten very involved in finding new music, very pleasing to watch.

               

W            Today was boring and tiresome. Ballet was the most inspiring and yet I simply could not muster the spirit to dance. After work, I returned to my room and Matt cheered me up without knowing it. He was just being himself and in doing so inspired me to dance. Jill and Kevin’s wedding entrance helped, too.

Th            Day 1 of 3: Had a very pleasant time talking with and learning about Catherine Katz. The students in Lerman’s class met Kate and Dave today, of room 404 media. They are both very bright individuals.

F              Day 2 of 3: Woke up at noon, which was too late in the day.

Sa           Day 3 of 3: Jun Shepard and I performed our duet for an audience soaked by the rain on a stage covered in a layer of water. Just before we went on stage, the two of us talked through the piece and agreed to make the entire thing more gentle and therefore more safe to perform. It went very well, I would say. The rain was very enjoyable at first. Everything about the schedule of performances and preparation for them was utter chaos and the rain made it all ridiculously amusing. I left for a time with a very bad attitude because I got what I call “wet cat syndrome”. Basically, I got too wet and got very unhappy, so I left for a while. Kyle and I grabbed a bite at Zoe’s diner before coming back to my room to change into dry clothes. Eventually, we went back to the Yard to a live band, a lot of dancing, and a lot of bare feet in soft mud. When I woke up today, the air was so clean and the sun was out with large white clouds floating in the sky. It was quite perfect. Thinking about all that happened on Friday, I feel that I have experienced an emotional deluge after which I feel capable of starting over again with new breath.

                

My First Yom Kippur Fast

Forwarded Message

----

Rossi,

My first Yom Kippur fast was successful and cleansing. I think that it is good to take conscious time but that

it really is all about your attitude. First of all, a day is not a long time to go without eating (or drinking). However,

I just let my attention switch directly from hunger, when it  inevitably strikes me, to other aspects of my life that feel 

important to me, my valuable relationships in this case. As a result, I feel very grounded in who I am and confident in my 

ability to recognize that I trust in myself to make good decisions that guide me accordingly.

Also, it makes a difference to have the support of over 5 million Jews in the United States, let alone the 

13 million who could be attending to the same tradition. This characterizes the practice of observance

in that everything that a Jew does on the individual level runs much more deeply than that individual,

It's very grounding, if you ask me.

sincerely,

rossi

Everything In Ballet Balance

I think that it is safe to say that I watch more ballet on YouTube than that average sophomore boy in college in America. Maybe I am just being proud.

Either way, I stopped to pause and realize that I have seen some fantastic dancing thanks to YouTube.

So I figured that YouTube, being a site for sharing, would want me to share these with those who are patient enough to watch.

move right along,
rossi

Alessandra Ferri and Wayne Eagling in "Romeo and Juliet"

Alessandra Ferri and Mikhail Baryshnikov in "Giselle"

Marinsky Ballet performing "Don Quixchotte"

Paloma Herrera and Angel Corella in "Don Quixote"

National Ballet of Canada performing 

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland"
original choreography by Christopher Wheeldon

Journal de la Semaine, 2-8 Octobre

2^me-8^me

Su           Second rehearsal for Don Quixote: my memory is serving me well. I love transforming myself into a dancer. Today was largely spent, however, loading walls and props into the Adams Pool Theater for Andy Boyd’s original play Affordable Rates and Color T.V. All things were properly set up and the run-throughs went very well, I think.

M            The welcome party for Jill Johnson went off without a hitch. It was superb. I had just come from ballet class into a dark room with a video exhibit by David Michalek that was displayed on three large vertical screens which were elevated a few feet from the ground. David Michalek is the husband of the principal dancer at New York City Ballet, Wendy Whelan, whom I met and spoke with for a time.

T              I updated my Facebook status to: “+2papers in <24hours. -1 three hour. +3 meals. +1 two-hour nap. Lifestyle efficiency.” It’s true. Before I skipped class to finish my paper, I napped on a pillow and blanket on the middle of three benches placed in the courtyard outside of my window. The sun was gentle enough through the leaves of the large tree so as to warm me but not overheat me. I slept for an hour and a half and woke up from a dream in which I was an old man thinking about his death. Images of my roommate’s face, smiling, and my own face, crying, came to mind. Contrary to what these two visualizations juxtaposed may insinuate, I felt very much at peace with my death, so much so that I woke up feeling renewed and fresh. Deciding against class and work for the hour afterward was not difficult. I walked to the river and wrote some sort of poetry, then burned it, and then wrote freely again.

W            I was very hungry in the afternoon and in the evening Andy Boyd’s Affordable Rates had a very successful run. Show goes up tomorrow night at 8pm.

Th           First showing of Affordable Rates and Colored T.V. Successful. First day at the Quincy Grille. Despite the spilled oil, which was not my doing, fortunately, the first day went comfortably. 

F              Today I cleaned the house at 17 Putnam for the brothers who will there and use the space.

Sa           Today’s rehearsal with Jun went very well and my rehearsing her steps last night paid off. We finished creating and learning the choreography today. When I asked, she said that since the last rehearsal to this one her level of security about this piece had increased from 4 to 7 on a scale of 10. Very good. 

Journal de la Semaine, 25-1 Octobre

25^me-1^re

Su           First rehearsal for Don Quixote: challenging and fantastic.

M            Regarding ballet, my balance is getting better. I can land somewhat securely after a pirouette and transfers of weight are done with more facility than before.

T              Today a very pertinent series of questions and thoughts arose while in discussion with Liz Lerman and architectural designer Michael Singer, among which were the notions of a “centralized thoroughfare” and sustainable food consumption at Harvard University. In the late evening with Lauren Simpson and gentlemen from the Lerman course, I participated in a first-stage collaborative effort to conjure moving ideas for Lerman’s installation-exhibit on the Civil War and the War in Iraq. The show goes up on 20 November. After returning to my room from a run in with the quality group of a few Pledges of AEPi and a brief walk with one of my roommates, I called my father, who silently fell asleep on the phone. Before going to bed, I noticed that the large white spider was not sprawled out on its web as it usually by this hour. I was worried that someone had done away with its web and the spider. To my delight, I found it curled up in the metal railing of my window, still alive.

W            This morning Kyle and I lay together in bed the entire morning without a worry or regret. I chose not to attend any of my classes today, which I do not regret, however I wish that the day was more progressive quantitatively (qualitative progress was high; I was happy to say the most). Regarding ballet, it pleases me that I am becoming more proficient in how I carry myself. Dinner with the Rabinowitz’ and company was lovely, and their home, exquisite. I have no reason to believe that I made an unfavorable impression on Mrs. Rabinowitz aside from the fact that, upon pulling out a petite note, in which I thank them with my own handwriting for their hospitality, a condom fell out of my pocketbook. It was quite funny, at the time. At the end of the evening, which had dragged on much too long, Mr. Rabinowitz graciously drove us all back to campus, at which point I promptly returned to my room, undressed, and slept.

Th           Today the rain came down from laden clouds and I bathed in it freely, content with all that I was.

F              My mind was very dissonant tonight and out of it I created an emergency gift for myself, bound with orange ribbon. Afterwards, I got very drunk at the party of a lady friend of mine who was turning twenty-one. (She had put a large photo of herself at the age of 15 on the window, though her appearance was exactly the same as it is currently).

Sa           I went to bed too late and woke up too early, so I went back to bed and then woke up feeling bland. I was swept away to Zander’s 21^st birthday—his parents had invited fifty of his close friends over to a bar for drinks, appetizers, and billiards. I almost didn’t go due to a severe confusion but I was very glad that I had. 

Journal de la Semaine, 18-24 Septembre

18me-24me

Su           Today was one of those Sundays that go according to plan while being moved by a subtle and more powerful pull. These instances of pleasant overlap of our micro and macro experiences, which are experienced in the present but perhaps strongest in retrospect, are profound, perhaps necessarily so. Also, I sat in on a conversation with Jawole Zollar and Liz Lerman. Potential research and dance project.

                I seduced Kyle but only momentarily, for the instant that I stopped I got typically sleepy until he arrived.

M            Monday was a very busy day. I obtained a little green-blue couch, had a job interview with three interviewers present (they made quite the tour-de-force, perhaps without realizing the power of their presence), and a trip to the Boston Ballet practice studios in the South End of Boston. I spent the evening with Dylan Freedman, which was a pleasure. At the end of the day, I was undoubtedly happy. 

T              Today I was in a very peaceful place and did not feel much for conversation. Most easily put, I had nothing to say to anyone. If only it were that easy without inciting offense. I enjoyed working with Jawole Zollar and Liz Lerman in class today, and on the walk home I procured some ivy from a brick wall, foliage that is now draped in my room to my greatest pleasure.

W            I worked out and feel so good. Ballet class was also amazing today. I felt it. Starting reading on René Descartes tomorrow morning, after an orange and a cigarette on the bench outside as it lounges in morninglight. 

Th           The weather was muggy and the benches wet, so I did not take the cigarette. Instead, I read at leisure at brought Kyle breakfast, for he hadn’t slept at all and with class all the day he wouldn’t have had the time. I also wrote a poem about the spider during this time. Jawole Zollar is magnificent.

F              I danced with Jun for the first time today. After fraternizing, I watched Mean Girls with Dylan and Kyle (it is still very funny). While the movie played, I learned who the young pianist was in Cabot: his name is Michael Taylor, which was a funny coincidence.  After walking to a pizza joint with Dylan, whose stomach was quite empty, I returned to my room to continue moving around. 

Sa           Sacvan Bercovitch failed to communicate with me about working for him this weekend, so I didn’t. I got very upset due to the conditions of a social mixer hosted by the fraternity. I was one man in a gentle threesome last night with two gentle friends, which was a new experience for him. 

Journal de la Semaine, 11-17 Septembre

11me-17me

Su           I decided to consume only healthy and balanced foods this week because of my Boston Ballet audition. Art of Survival. 

M            Today I visited the Department of History of Science and felt the Good energy. I rode my bike in a mob with Josiah and Sam Arnold to Fresh Pond for the first time today. Ballet class was fantastic. Made $10. 

T              Today I went to my first History of Science lecture and got 2 of 3 necessary signatures to join it. I made  significant progress in my solo: The Cocoon. I had a slow dinner with Becky and what I learned about her made me hopeful. I used an apple to blaze and found a small, dingy garage for a stage and I played with the piano to create what will be the music for my solo.

W            Today I had lunch with Cassandra, Chava, and dearest Kyle. I had dinner alone and sat with Kevin Meers and his company, which was pleasing. Afterward, I made more progress on my solo. While dancing in Cabot common room, I realized that I had an audience looking down from the windows across the way.

Th           My solo went well and I had a really nice date with Kyle watching and listening to Wynton Marsalis in Sanders Theater. After that, I had a super chill time with Andrew and Dylan after sake bombing. Slept with Kyle. Good day.

F              My History of Science section is very pleasant. The students in it are all of similar ages and academic aspiration and also of calm and intellectual demeanor. I am very much looking forward to the semester with them. 

Sa           I went on a boat trip with some people, which was nice, though I wished that I were alone the entirety of the ride. I wrote a poem to Boston, my second or third of this genre now.

"WE'LL FIND OUT"

"Is your mind mistaken,

is your conscience not at ease,

we'll find out

we'll find out."

We'll Find Out, song by Timber Timbre

. . . 

Much has happened in this last month and much is still happening. 

The most pleasing news is that I have been accepted into the Harvard Ballet Company. This semester, I will be performing in several excerpts from the ballet Don Quixote, also being performed this season by the Boston Ballet. In addition to the ballet company, Monday of next week I will audition for the role of an extra in the Boston Ballet's Romeo + Juliet. 

Also relevant is the fact that Jill Johnson, the impressive new dance director at Harvard (read), brought Boston Ballet Artistic Director Mikko Nissinen to instruct a master class at 60 Garden St. studio, which I attended. He was very gentle with his corrections and exactly right about all of them. At this point in time, being in the throws of so much movement and expression will prove to be my necessary outlet. I am a dancer now. How far shall I go?

Next, to know about the nap that I took this evening is to know then that I took several hours exclusively for myself. I refused to respond to anything or receive anyone in any capacity. Having not done this since the academic year began, this nap was a jewel of time re-captured. When I arose in the blue darkness of the night, I allowed myself to accept an intention in my chest to pursue a concentration in History of Science. After moving to my bed (I slept on a large bean bag chair that I own), I re-read a letter given to me two years ago now by a close friend and its message was shockingly relevant: 

Another cool thing about you is your willingness to explore yourself. I’ve seen you dothis through art and poetry, and I’m sure there’s a bunch of other ways. But it’s justtoo cool to see you partake in that journey...and you do it while being so “into” it! Youdo not just float by on the river of life, but you kayak down it. You traverse the rapidsthat make your journey in particular so fun and unique. You make your life your own,and you make it interesting. Like I said, your courage to explore and express make meproud of you...I wish more people could be as courageous as you.      ~M.Navarrete.

I felt ashamed in the face of his words. I felt like a coward because I have shied away from certain knowledge being afraid that my intuition about and comprehension of it would pale in comparison to that of others. His words gave me the courage to reaffirm much of what I have recently doubted. 

Finally and to my dismay, though understandable given the circumstances, the rapid progress--what I call rapid and what I call progress--with my artwork has slowed severely. Though I worry about this, I shouldn't worry. I am all too familiar with these phases of creative diversion. They come and go like demons guided by the phases of the moon. 

shall have patience,

rossi 

a month has passed

"What if I should fall right through the center of the earth, Oh, and come out the other side . . . "

. . . 

"A month has passed since I have shared with you here

And I implore you, Dear, that you must not fear;

Patience only is required

And soon you shall see What I have sired."

rossi lamont walter

Art Week #4

Photograph by Hannah Glass.

Found here.

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things; of shoes and ships and sealing wax-- of cabbages and kings-- and why the sea is boiling hot and weather pigs have wings."

. . . 

Today, I have completed 14/15 pages of my final paper and am very happy with my focus and progress. Unfortunately, that means that art took a back seat. I planned for this.

Fortunately, though, today has given me another good sign of progress. In looking for a nice images of the sirens, I came across a very random blog called "Rambles from my Chair". Among all of the things to find, there was this quote at the top of his page, which you also found at the top of this entry. You don't have to have read the book to recognize Lewis Carroll. The cosmic relevance struck me.

If I take this as a sign, which I do, it seems that I am on the right path with my Alice Tree project. 

Take my time from time not wasted. 

Though I have not been able make art with a pen, I did manage to contribute to a little poetry that came together in response to the Facebook status of another hippy friend of mine. 

"We don't eat

We don't sleep--

Feels like dreaming--

Without the feeling?

Exactly that, that was rather perfect--

And even so, my head's still reeling"

24 juillet 2011

alex rosene, araf hossain, rossi walter

The triage of voices here brought to mind another fantastical image I have always been fond of: the Sirens of Greek mythology. Illustrator BreeAnn Veenstra did a marvelous rendition:

"The Sirens' Lure" by BreeAnn Veenstra

Survey her other work here.

That seems to be it for this week but I am not complaining. Academic progress in the foreground and a cooking plot for poor Alice in the background. Perhaps I can say I am using the whole of my brain. That would be magnificent. Either way, we all know what the Duchess would say.

"take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves,"
rossi

His First Gay Experience

16 juillet 2011

. . . 

Last week, after many students flew up to Paris to celebrate Bastille weekend, one of my good companions here in the summer program, originally from Bahrain, and I made plans to go to Nice to watch Woody Allen's Minuit à Paris. Though we made it to Nice and arrived at the Place de Garibaldi, our chill plan for  movie was derailed by...  a gay pride march. (How nice.)

After wandering in and out of the crowd teeming with smiling faces, rainbow details, and glistening drag queens, a young man with a gentle Australian accent introduced himself to us, admitting that he was want for company and was attracted to my shirt. His name is James Welsby and he is a dancer in Australia, currently traveling Europe on a grant awarded to him for his work. Having spent a spontaneous day with him and my friend, and then another night dancing and sitting by the sea in Menton, I can say with some certainty that we are fond of each other. Much to my displeasure, he could not stay longer, for he had to attend to some circus business in London. I gave him some vanilla tea and a red candle with which he could settle himself his first night there.

So this afternoon I finally emailed a handful of photos to my  Bahraini friend. This was his first gay pride/parade/march/rally/demonstration experience, which was a surprise to me but a very good one. I attached a little quip to the photos, to which he responded. His response touched me very much, prompting me to respond to him dearly and share my perspective on the meaning of "the pride parade".

. . . 

I.

"Remember this fondly and be ye not afraid to support equal rights with a little flare.

live on, "

II.

"Merci beaucoup cher Rossi...

Didn't I support equal rights with indeed a lot of flare?

Honestly, I was hesitant at the beginning (not because I'm against equal rights, but because I felt that I'm not concerned about this issue), but now that I have gay friends I feel concerned and engaged somehow.

However, do you feel a parade is a way to gain equal rights? I feel it's just a celebration... but if you want to get more rights, then you should convince us (politicians and diplomats :p).

Thanks a lot again for the photos, "

III.

"Dearest ,

You are right. Indeed you did celebrate equal rights with the flare that is contagious to the crowd. Well done.

I can sympathize to the feeling of being unconcerned or untouched. I often feel the same way when I am confronted with the decision to be active or passive or indifferent about gay rights issues. Though I have many gay friends and myself identify as gay, I feel that some key issues of gay rights do not yet apply to me (legal rights) and that the issues that do apply to me I espouse personally, in my daily life and interactions (criticizing intolerance, promoting person-to-person understanding).

A parade is not the way to gain equal rights. A parade is merely a legal and public display of the community support for gay/equal rights. You are correct to say that it is a celebration. Rather than a protest, the LGBTQS (lesbian gay bisexual trans queer straight) community, I feel, prefers to make a jovial spectacle, which in my experience is often well received and very engaging for more active activists, individuals, and families alike. Note the child sucking on a pacifier while sitting on his dad's shoulders in the attached photo.

The eccentric display is to demonstrate the overwhelming support for equal rights, which necessarily includes homosexuals and homosexual couples (e.g. our sign "homoparentalité: vite un statut"). As you saw, these demonstrations often include other pertinent messages advocating health and safety like "sortez-couvert" (funny how Yasmina mentioned that yesterday morning).

I am very glad that I was able to be with you for your first gay parade/rally/protest/demonstration/experience. I hope that with and without me you will continue to support them, even if it is walking in silence with the crowd. Your presence is as important as that of the loudest, most garishly dressed drag queen.

all my care and good luck with your paper,"

conversation is key,

rossi

"GOOD NEWS FOR PEOPLE WHO LOVE BAD NEWS"

"The Moon & Antarctica" Modest Mouse

. . .

Today is the third of my six-day work week machining out words that best articulate my final idea(s) after two months of studying the histories of colonialism before unknown to me, Mediterranean and European authors of whom I had never heard of, and the implications and relevance of it all. I am doing well: 8 of 12-15 pages. 

To get me through the hour-to-hour days in my room, I listen to hours-and-hours of music. My iTunes search history includes one word filters: radio, mountain, weed, marijuana. Today, I started my day with a mostly-naked post-shower sit in the sun behind the villa. The dried, beige and red pockets of dead weeds made the little courtyard glow with age. Now, five hours later, I am sitting at my desk listening to "Life like Weeds". Thanks Modest Mouse.

So, I was going to share a budding conversation with a good companion of mine here in the program, but that necessarily takes a back seat (the next entry). In looking for the pleasant album art that you see at the top of this entry, I found (1) each cover on two different blogs.  

"Styrofoam Boots" (since 2009) and "It's Just So Overrated" (sassy, but true since March 2011) both go into impressive and, in the case of Styrofoam Boots, impressively personal detail about what there is to gain from Moon & Antarctica. As such, summarizing would be ridiculous. Check them out for yourself:

Styrofoam Boots   :   It's Just So Overrated

artists sharing artists,

rossi

UNDERSCORES
(1)  Reader: cease automatically clicking "Full-size image". Develop a curiosity for where the image is coming from; this is the Internet and cool things are out there in the wild.

"Gratitude; King Midas"

I. Reflection

"my days are amazing experiences
my friends are unique and timeless
my outlook is rich and positive
and my fingertips are covered in the richest paint;
as to all of this together,
that which makes up my conscious reality,
I bow humbly
in deepest gratitude."


II. Observation

"to be King Midas without the flaw,
touching lives and turning them to gold,
you truly do enrich us all"


19 juillet 2011


composed by rossi lamont walter and mathew maale


within 22hours of its posting,
this status received over 20 'likes' on my Facebook:
it seems that people enjoy being reminded
of something... but what?


where do you turn your life to gold?
rossi

Three Videos

Here are three videos to watch before bed. All of them contain dancing. One of them contains many smiles.

"Showreel" by James Welsby

"Window in the Skies" by U2

"Story of Bess" by Rossi Lamont Walter

How's that for an injection of creativity. You've seen what others can do, so do it too.

do it to it,

rossi

Art Week #3

"The Cursed Circus"

More photographs of this unique dance troupe here.

. . . 

I am listening to "Bilar" by Ratatat. The feel of this song goes something like how I would imagine walking through a dense metal yard stacked high with shadowed figures with sharp edges during deep sunset while tripping on some psychedelic. Or, just as fair, something like this. 

This week was another week of slow progress, but progress was made nonetheless. I have brought together my varying intimacies with poetry, art, and photography (geez) into five distinct "projects". One of these projects gained a new entry this week, with a poem I wrote entitled,

I sat by the sea

—Then I threw my body in

To let loose of it, be through it with

Voilà! C’est la fin.

For today, the sea was crashing

A mad thrash into the rocks

. . . 

14 juillet

In fact, that is not the end. The poem is only a bit longer. One day I'll share the rest. Here is where I sat.

Recall my obsession with all things Alice in Wonderland. Well, during a gay pride/rights march in Nice yesterday, a pleasant reassurance fell into my lap... 

I took this as a sign, if anything. So in good taste and due to my unlimited enthusiasm for Lewis Carroll's brain child, I have mentally dedicated most of my effort to a project that I started this past winter, one that concerns solely my poor Alice. It is titled The Alice Tree, for now, after the drawing I posted. Poor Alice, helplessly subjected to the tossing and trembling of my imagination... 

Last week I said I would fill 18 boxes. I filled 12, which suffices. 

This week, I enlarged two of the mini-sketches. 

Detail: the letter on each door. can you find the hidden detail in the bottom sketch?
hint: "You would find me in the Cursed Circus."

Explanation: this is "Mist/La Brume" and her distress, to which poor Alice has befallen. 

Can you see what is happening in the first sketch? 

Next week will see progress with Mlle. Haze and her own trickery. 

I really, really need to start practicing with paints and evaporate these ideas onto canvas. These sketches can't stay in ink on paper forever. I guess the saying is true: you can't have mist without heat. Meanwhile, I should get my hands on a pretty, hardback copy of Alices Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. Surprises, surprises, I have yet to read either one.

come fall, pedal to the metal, don't let the dust settle,

rossi

Art Week #2

. . . 

I'm late.
But that's not too important.
Granted, it is only two hours past midnight, so I very much am still in the fingerlaces of Sunday's night.
For all intents and purposes--and intended purposes--I am quite on time.
Sublime.

As far as my art is concerned, this week was slow getting started due to a lot of work. I've never read so much Franco-Algerian history in my life. (Never read any before, actually. Is this a problem with our World History education in America? Who knows, but the answer is clearly yes.) Lately I've had in mind a collection of word scrawling and pen illustrations that sit in a big black book back in Boston. (Nice.) Here is one of them. It is called, "The Alice Tree".

"The Alice Tree"

Here it is sliced up because I used it as the cover of a short story I submitted to a contest at school and mysteriously never heard back from them-- not with with the winner, a thank you, a disappointing remark on the scattered nature (beauty) of my submission, nothing. Thanks Harvard, for being sketchy. Anyway, I figured out how to pick up where I left off with the plot. It involves poor Alice (she is always the unfortunate, she has to be) happening upon three enchanted sisters, named Haze (L'Obscurité), Mist (La Brume), and Gloom (La Mélancolie). 

In class I managed to sketch out a rather tame picture. Here are the Fog Sisters (Les Sœurs du Voile):

Rendition 1

Like I said, pretty tame. I do like the tarot-card centralization of this sketch, though. Something about this length-to-width proportion just makes me giddy. 

So, the week goes on, I'm learning how France dominated Algeria in the 18th and 19th centuries with crazy effectiveness, and, in Google Image searching for inspiration regarding what exactly constitutes "melancholy," I find this guy: Ryohei Hase, digital illustrator based in Tokyo, Japan. Go to his website. I'm very impressed with his very skilled and patient use of the "digital brush" as one of my closer buddies called it. Using a little intuition, you will find his series of eight pieces done with this theme. For fun, guess which piece was my favorite. Hint: there are two. 

Ryohei keeps notes, which I looked through a little bit. In them, I found a technique that I've seen used also by Esao Andrews. I said to myself, "Well, there you have it. If two professional illustrator-artists use it, then you should use it, for at least try it for the benefits." And I did. Or at least I have started:

By the end of this new week, all 18 will be filled. I will be thrilled.

ciaociao,

rossi

Freshman Year at Harvard University

"Weight"

Click the photograph to see my entire set.

Leave a comment, either here, there, or both
but only if it pleases you.

"beauty is in the eye of the beholder"

so behold,

rossi

Ghosts and Memory

Photo found here.

. . .

A ghost is an apparition, a faint trace of a person that is believed to appear or become manifest to the living. 

In other words, it is the manifestation of memory recalling the existence of a person formerly present.

In the same manner that memory is a shade of the past, a ghost is a shade of one's memory of a person.

Ghosts are very real. They only seem "dead" because they are hazy projections of memory.

They are the authentic living dead.

And I saw one today.

"Josiah"

One should really be amazed at how easily the human brain can invert reality to the extent that memory becomes imagination and the living becomes perceived as already dead.

to my brother Josiah, whom I love,

rossi

Touch Up: One after the Next

Minimalist bed from the collection "Living Divani". Found here.

. . . 

Evidently, I am not very up-to-date with the Internet. I know about Facebook, Google, Gmail, and all that is basic. Sure, you may call me a minimalist.

But it's more accurate to say that I can be pretty averse to technology, skeptical at least. For example, during the summer after our freshman year, my boyfriend registered a Skype account for me because I refused. In doing so, he taught me a new French word: "rossignol". According to WordReference.com, this has several meanings, which include "nightingale", "picklock", "bit of junk", and "out-dated merchandise". Unfortunately for me I have a very acute boyfriend who has an even more acute sense of humor. As was the case, all of these definitions pertained to me and were spot on. So there you have it:

"I, Rossi Lamont Walter, Jr., am indeed out-dated merchandise."

Now, slowly but surely, I become integrated with modern times and the fuller functionality of the Internet. I redeployed the Bucket, which you are now reading. I finally got a Flickr account. Through this, I became acquainted more deeply with Picnik. I don't know if I should thank someone or just be content that all of these services are free. I guess I could send a positive user report. I am very fond of those.

Change is change is change, I suppose. At least I keep others updated about my out-dated habits. At any rate, here is a photo taken of my school with my Android phone and edited in Picnik.

"The Yard"

Things just get curiouser and curiouser.

to be continued,

rossi