that which connects us, also divides

I went on a mission this afternoon to photograph sidewalk cracks in East Boston and Chelsea, preparing for the Connective Tissue collaborative group show. (Showings June 11 and 28 at the Gallery at Spencer Lofts, Chelsea, MA)

On my daily commute, I walk over dozens of big spidery sidewalk cracks so I thought it'd be easy to cross the Chelsea Bridge and find similar ones in Eastie. No. Someone has gone and resurfaced every formally decrepit sidewalk. Go Menino.

I did finally find some on a big cement plaza in front of Umano Middle School and other areas where sidewalks meet curb cuts. And I assume a plow every once and a while? Like I'd hoped and assumed, the cracks are similar and unidentifiable as being from one city or the other.

Next up, I'll make hair drawings of the cracks using hair collected from participating East Boston and Chelsea artists. Later, I'll place them in the Chelsea Creek which separates East Boston from Chelsea and document the process of un-connecting.

That which binds us together also makes us unique?

Portrait of the Artist

I've been trying to get back into reading fiction. It's not that I don't enjoy it. I just don't have a lot of time. Or rather, I don't make the time. So for Christmas I begged and pleaded with my (ahem, very generous) husband for the Kindle reader in anticipation of loading it up with fictional titles and spending late nights pouring over the new titles that get tossed about at dinner parties and lunch dates. (At which point I make a lame excuse that I am too busy to read.) Once in my hands however, I read title after title of non-fiction about subjects that pertain to my interests, and the content of this blog; namely creativity and happiness.

So searching for fiction closely aligned to my interests I queried "artist" in the the available Kindle fiction editions. One of a few results displayed was James Joye's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. The title got me thinking. Who would typify the young artist today?

Gina Badger springs to mind; she is the contemporary portrait of an artist. Through my role at work I've been helping her permit her Little Dig project on the Greenway. In a role-reversing way I've been "the man". I've delivered "no" five times, "let me check" at least a dozen (and then taken weeks to get back to her), along with every piece of bad news or change-in-plan one project can endure. Yet she is out there today doing her artwork.

Now isn't this the definition of an artist? Someone who just keeps taking it. Each and every no. Each and every rejection. And keeps moving forward.

I applaud Gina and every artist, writer, musician, inventor, crafts person, cook, teacher, or person with an idea that s/he believes adds good to the word. Keep shifting, tweaking, perfecting, changing, whatever you need to do, to keep your vision alive.

Now, can someone recommend a good read?