- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- July 2012
- June 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- October 2010
- August 2010
- May 2010
- March 2010
- January 2010
- September 2009
- August 2009
- July 2009
- June 2009
- May 2009
- April 2009
- March 2009
- February 2009
- January 2009
- December 2008
- November 2008
- October 2008
- September 2008
- August 2008
- July 2008
- June 2008
- May 2008
- April 2008
- March 2008
- February 2008
- January 2008
- December 2007
- November 2007
- October 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
- July 2007
- June 2007
- May 2007
- April 2007
- March 2007
- February 2007
- January 2007
- December 2006
- November 2006
- October 2006
- September 2006
- August 2006
- July 2006
- June 2006
- May 2006
- April 2006
- March 2006
- February 2006
- January 2006
- December 2005
- November 2005
Winter storm brings another sentiment, walking wandering, in the
darkest passing of the season; and in walking alone, I found myself,
cast into the winds of the northbound rage, coming forth, running up
the hills, swirling in that high rhythm, trees humming with the rain —
the sonorous call of that one, also alone, but everywhere. Everything.
All the while, the sea calls and calls, ceaselessly, the washing torrent,
like that force that she is — always the same, in her action, coming.
And coming. It’s like she’s rising from the baseline of who she is.
She wants out, and up. And in walking the black path, up the old road,
now strewn with all the gatherings of the other storms, she’s
shouting that: I’m coming. I’m coming forth for you, to you. Then
I’m rising out of this place where I am, and I’m reaching out. For you.
I can taste the salt of the day in my eyes, washing down, all the places that
I’ve been, my skin a long gathering of what’s within, now without, coursing.
And I realize that she’s already here, this one, that sea, she. She and I
already know each other, our histories intertwine, in me finding that, her,
just this instance in the long walking in the dark. Black beauty, that she
is now, stormbringer, raincaster, windrunner and storyteller, beckoning:
I’m coming for you, since I know you. And you know me, embrace me – home.
If you are not with me, then I am thinking of you, missing that selfsame gait.
In being out, wandering, as has long been the soul of our connections —
each other, bound to the path, the wander, the sea, that found. That, still unknown.
And that which remains to be discovered. Uncovering, that which is the more. In us.
tsg | stormbound | decatur island
For me, in my experience, it’s that – being a gemini is about being one, in two.
There is the one side, there is the other. But isn’t this the character of living, the one, the two — and the smoke of the space in between? You are one, you are the other.
But for, and in any thing, I’m deeply curious. My whole life has been to this, about this. Wandering, gathering, contemplating, exploring — finding one in the other; finding another in the one.
And all the places that lie in between, the mystery therein.
Finding one, in being too, two, my self.
wishing well, all : warmth >
tsg | decatur island
Hi and good morning…
We couldn’t fly out on last night’s flight due to the storm in Seattle. The airport was, to our insightful analysis, quaking in the storm. The pilot told us he didn’t think the situation was improving…but worsening (and that, then, the storm had closed the airport).
Speaking of round, goin’ round, and all that…Sherwin and I are heading out this morning, returning this early afternoon. I’ll cab home, then grab my car to come downtown. Jami Parr was sweetly generous to get us rooms in the TI — for which we are profoundly grateful (!!!)
I’ll plan on working this afternoon and evening, as well as the weekend, to catch up. Need me, connect with me.
(randl) Also 5 roundele, 5-6 -elle, 5-7 -ell, 7 -ill; 5 roundul, Sc. -all, 6-8 -al, 7 -ill; 5 rowndel, 6 -ale, 6-7 -ell.[ad. OF. rondel masc. or rondelle fem., f. rond ROUND a. Hence also med.L. rondellus, -um and rondella, It. rondello, rondella, MDu. and Du. rondeel, MLG. rondel, rundel, G. rundel (rondel), Sw. rundel, Da. runddel,rundel. For varying adoptions of the word in English see RONDEL, ROUNDLE, and RUNDLE.]. 1.a. A circle drawn, marked out, or formed in any way. Now dial.
a1290 Beket 2128 in S. Eng. Leg. I. 167wane men peyntiez an Anletnesse,..ere is depeint a Roundel al a-boutee heued. c1384 CHAUCER H. Fame II. 791 Yf that thow Thorwe on water now a stoon,..hyt wol make anoon A litel roundell as a sercle. c1425 WYNTOUN Cron. I. ix. 533 As men may be a roundall se Merkit to be delt in thre. c1440 Promp. Parv. 438/1 Rowndel, rotundale. 1529 MORE Dyaloge I. Wks. 121/1 Those nygromancers..that put theyr confydence in the roundell and cercle on the grounde. 1561 EDEN tr. Cortes’ Art Navig. I. xx. 22 The Epicicle, is a circle or little roundel. 1634 WITHER Embl. 157 These roundells helpe to shew the mystery Of that immense and blest Eternitie. 1875 PARISH Dict. Sussex Dial., Roundel, a circle; anything round. 1876 F. K. ROBINSON Whitby Gloss. s.v., A witches roundel, that within which she performs her rites.
Seen by me, and the owl, see’in me.
I was walking to a meeting, just off the strip, in Vegas. And wandering down a leafy corridor, saw this reference, to another world, another seeing. That re-minding sight.
And it reminded me, of being somewhere else.
But most importantly, the idea that I should be paying attention.
Seeing this, reminded me to do just that. Pay attention. Tune in. Hoping for clarity of vision, surely, to the degree that this little sight full being, sensed me…
Here’s to a tuned day, for you. See what you can, be in attention.
And you never know what you might find…
warmest, all ways:
tsg | girvegas
When I first heard of this concept, MOSS | The store, I literally thought — wet creative. Marshes. Bogs. Gardening. Things like that. That was a long time ago. Well, ten years ago. And just before I’d learned about Murray Moss. Since his opening in 94, I’ve kept watching him.
There’s an eccentric vision to Moss; it’s do-not-touch retail. It’s not retail, in any conventional sense; it’s a museum; it’s design contemplation. There are stern warnings on entry — pretty much “don’t do everything.” Come in, but don’t do anything. I ignored that, of course. I touched everything and took pictures too.
Nikki Chung, a design theorist writes about this notion as:”What separates Moss consumers from the masses is that they are paying for more than just ownership of designer housewares. They are paying for the right to experience them.
Please Do Not Touch. Thats the slogan Murray Moss has adopted for his chic SoHo design store, Moss. In style points, Murray wins. Moss has been at the cutting edge of household hip since its inception in 1994. Over the years Murray and his enterprise have gained international renown for their discerning selection and presentation of highly designed everyday objects and furnishings. Amidst a stark white backdrop of lacquered platforms and polished glass cases, designer household products are elevated to the level of art in Murrays museum-like setting.”
That’s all very well and good, but curious, the range of selection, and the modeling of a kind of right to simply have the pleasure to experience this house gear and art. There is a vast assembly of taste differentials, to my thinking — from comic book-covered
Italian furniture, spiderty glasswares and illumined and hanging crystals, to wickedly wrapped and warped wooden furniture that looks like a kind of wood magnet, picking up by attraction flying pieces of bric a brac.
All, sensual. But all, untouchable.
There are other traditional non retail “elevations”. More store, but online. But in the store. We consider expansions by brick and mortar staggering, but what of a digital elevator. Nice one, that:
“MOSS, a four-year-old interior design store at 146 Greene Street in SoHo, has added four new floors, but customers will not be climbing stairs to reach them. Instead, they will be clicking a mouse. That’s because Moss’s new floors exist within a computer program and can be reached only through what could be Manhattan’s first virtual elevator.
So he created a computer graphics program that allows customers to choose an image of an elevator to lift them digitally to virtual floors with animated displays of furniture. It even plays elevator music.
The virtual elevator of this cyberstore is reached via a Macintosh G3 computer with a large-screen monitor, which is near an oil-and-vinegar set created by the Italian industrial designer Ettore Sottsass, a shrimp bowl by Nambe, a manufacturer based in New Mexico, and a silver inflated lounge chair by Ilkka Suppanen.”(Rachel Lehmann-Haupt | NYTimes)
There are interesting intersections:
On site expansions virtually
Light on the floor
Next step for me will be to meet Murray Moss. And see how he intertwines the spirit of the environment with personal sentiments. Who is he; and who’s his store, anyway?
Wishing well, all ways >
TSG | NYC
bicoastal, a. and n.
Brit. /bkstl/, U.S. /bakost()l/ [< BI-2 + COASTAL a.]
1. Concentrated at, taking place on, or involving two coasts, esp. the east and west coasts of the United States.
I was playing this game that used to be called bones. It was called that because it used them. Bones with little markings on them. Then it became dominos, something about dominance. Now this same game is called Mexican Train.
What’s with that, anyway?
I was looking at a map of Mt. Merapi, the volcano that I’d had a chance to climb in Java. I noted that the area that I’d climbed was submerged beneath a new patterning.
It was ossified.
So I’m guessing this is gone.
ossify \AH-suh-fy\, intransitive verb:
1. To change into bone; to become bony.
2. To become hardened or set in a rigidly conventional pattern.
3. To change into bone; to convert from a soft tissue to a hard bony tissue.
4. To harden; to mold into a rigidly conventional pattern.
It was a case of fresh, consistent dogmatism against ossified, utilitarian dogma.
— Milovan Djilas, Fall of the New Class
Ossify is from Latin os, oss-, “bone” + -fy, from Latin -ficare, akin to facere, “to make.”
Here’s to a good one.
I keep looking.
This is one of those store concepts that makes sense, to the notions of mass and air and light > extravagances in scale of offerings. It’s big, open and has a sense of humor, but the underlying details are not surprising, per se. Mixed well. They are just used in an enterprising manner. Enterprise how? There are plenty of things that are done, to detailing, that are — to the budget cutter’s edition — unnecessary. But in this space, they fill the mass channeling of goofy and simple clothing options to a well organized melange, detailed with bright aluminum, even brighter lighting, and a fluent efficiency. It’s working.
I was talking to a friend, an esteemed retail designer and merchandising expert last night, and he said; “it’s nice but there are no little surprises”. Or big ones, either. But in a way, the whole store concept is a surprise. It was packed with action. And, to comprehension and product relevance…
Maybe he and I aren’t UNIQLO shoppers.
I like a sense of humor.
I like identity programs in boxes, that become other things and animate intriguingly (lots of this there).
I like transparent stairs made of aluminum.
I like metal cubes as doorways on glassed walls.
I like merchandising displays that seem like futurist dioramas.
I like concepts of sheathing the old, museum like, against the blazingly new. And now. And then…
I’d like to live in a house that had shelving systems 25′ high.
But I’d put books in there.
But still looking.
Wishing well, all ways >
tsg > NYC
parse \PARSS\ verb
1 : to analyze a sentence by naming its parts and their functions
*2 : to examine in a minute way : analyze critically
“parse” brings up images of elementary school and learning the parts of speech, you’ve done your homework regarding this word. “Parse” comes from the first element of the Latin term for “part of speech” “pars orationis.” It’s an old word that has been used in the schoolroom since the 16th century, but it did not graduate to its extended, non-grammar-related sense until the late 18th century. Remember this extended sense, and you’re really at the head of the class.
Know about this?
I keep looking around.
This is a boarding brand — boards being skate and snow. More than shoes, obviously.
Their website is relatively quiet, given the more radical character of their brand. And the store | story that holds them.
Their store is less so, to the notions of quiet space: it’s noisy. Loud, it’s intriguing. The design metaphors speak to massive skilift-like fiberglass suspensions that hang from the ceiling, on tracks, that are not only merchandising structures, with the capacity for shelving insets, but point of purchase mounts. And places to sit. There are attached wall merchandising structures, beautifully designed, that are like aluminum lift struts.
The back of the store is a wall of video monitors. And I, along with the rest of the staff, spent most of our time talking about the boarding moves, displayed across the screens. To board culture, it was the place to gather. And we all had something to say.
Space is narrow. You are channeled, speaking to procession and flow.
These observations come from the SOHO flagship on Spring, sprung: 2006.
Walking around, talking, I shot on the fly — to my typical infiltration.
See these. See the store.
Check out: ceiling tracking structures, rubberized floor treatment, merchandising shoe structures.
wishing well | keep exploring:
tsg | NYCGIRVIN
My little bird, there are things.
And there are things.
There are things that rattle deep, to the histories of pain, and there are others that are like pricking pokes, others that are searing hard and slicing to the bone.
And there is pain.
But to the contrary of the painful, there is the warming, the loving, the beneficent, the restful and happy.
We can always go there, with the circle of our family. And our love.
Please know that in all ways, I’ll be there for you — reaching back to the warming heart, to take you somewhere softer and fonder, deflecting as I can — the glancing stroke of these blades, that surely come to all of us.
Thinking of you this morning, from afar.
Intriguing the connection, that friendly banter is the character of the affable. How often does one counter silence with the sense of the unfriendly…and untoward?
affable \AF-uh-bul\ adjective
1 : being pleasant and at ease in talking to others
2 : characterized by ease and friendliness
“Affable” is one of several English words that evolved from the Latin verb “fari,” which means “to speak.” “Affable” comes from the Latin “affabilis,” which comes from the “fari” relative “affari” (“to speak to”), plus “-abilis,” meaning “able.”
Some other “fari” derivatives are “infant,” “fable,” and “fate.” “Infant” comes from the Latin “infans,” which means “incapable of speech” and combines “in-” and “fans,” the present participle of “fari.” “Fable” comes from the Latin “fabula,” a “fari” offspring that means “conversation.” “Fate” comes from the Latin word “fatum,” meaning “what has been spoken” and deriving from “fatus,” a past participle of “fari.”
I’ll try to talk a lot today.
T. > Arizona and Nevada, outbound, this morning…