by Tim Girvin | Nov 28, 2010 | Diary
NYC Looking north, pre-dawn, when only the mist is the light of Central Park, it’s like a land that hasn’t yet been discovered — there’s jungle there. And indeed, there’s jungle, round that jungle — ring, on ring; adventure —...
by Tim Girvin | Nov 24, 2010 | Diary
I couldn’t really see. The windshield was so mucked with road spittle, winter drivel, the cleaning fluid was frozen, I tried a bottle of old Roger & Gallet Vetiver — seeing if that would remove the snow and mud from the front (and the rear window). It...
by Tim Girvin | Nov 24, 2010 | Diary
Dissolution, beautiful degradation; the dissolving — the shifting of solution from one stage to another, spattered with color. Looking at this wall, once cleaned masonry, now speckled with moss, the tinting of coursing water, the colors shift in the aging...
by Tim Girvin | Nov 23, 2010 | Diary
Seattle’s in a kind of shut down. Only the brave ventured downtown. Living on Queen Anne Hill, one of the hills overlooking the city, the streets are slick with ice. Being an eastern Washington person, snow’s never an impediment. It’s a gauntlet....
by Tim Girvin | Nov 22, 2010 | Diary
As the storm comes in, winter borne, the island house gets colder and colder, sifting the iced winds from the north, roaring over the hills, the forest, back to the southern sea. Fire might be the only way to get warm. While I’m drawing, I put my hands into the...
by Tim Girvin | Nov 19, 2010 | Diary
“The reality of a room, for instance, was to be found in the vacant space enclosed by the roof and the walls, not in the roof and walls themselves. The usefulness of a water pitcher dwelt in the emptiness where water might be put, not in the form of the pitcher...
