The work is never done -- and who hopes that it is? The work, the care and practice of it, is the spirit of the evocation of the living -- our living, our working. Can they not be aligned - an integration? A passion? Work: the passion, the pain, the pleasure. . . Entwined, threads in living... wishingwell+ tsg | d e c a t u r i s l a n d

Good morning. That title...I thought that would catch your attention. I'd thought about the idea of using fire for paintings and art. Then flame in the context of signing. Fire signs, why not? Signed / singed by fire? Why not? Smoke rubbed art? There are marvelous textures to fire, and fired objects. I did it for Sharon Stone, why not otherwise? The Chinese, of course, have been working in this space -- loosely speaking, for several thousand years....

SLICE CURL PEEL MELT. Thought you might enjoy this, the detailing of Thomas Heatherwick's work on Longchamp, Soho, Manhattan. Maybe you've seen it, already. I was down town working, Soho, took a break, and went there: shot. Frankly, I'm actually not sure that the merchandise is worth it; it's simply not that great. More bags. And my proverbial question is -- what is the story here; and who cares about it? But the detailing of the space is fascinating. I like Heatherwick's sense of adventure....

Happy Monday. Be sure to wash, then retune. Before you work. Happy Monday! tsg

The line I think that we visualize a line, passing through space because we place it there. Line scribes a line, threading between what is seen and experienced what is known and unknown, but the real question is this a knotted line of imagining, this seeing that we do, or is it no thing -- just a figment of what we'd like to envision, staking our feet in the ground, eyes following where we would like to go. Tim Girvin DIA | Beacon |...

I've been looking at, collecting X. Why, you might ask. It's one of those things that you uncover from your memory -- something past and misted. But there. The X is an ancient symbol -- so old, its origin is forgotten. But what is it? It is the crossing; it is the crossroads, it is the place in which paths merge, lines connect, mysteries emanate. I can recall being in Bali, and there was a ceremony at the crossroads -- for them, it's a path of collision and danger; the leyak roost there,...

There's been wild and raging storms, surging up the coast -- gale winds, ripping rains. Then, silence. I look out over the waters, and it's still as ever, so quiet, it's like there's nothing there. Beyond the sighting cairn, the triangular arrangement of stones, that seems to survive storm after storm, wind running after...   This morning, Kingfisher, spies...

I was working back east, around Princeton and elsewhere out there, and came to this new modeling for Puma.  I really like the floors, which seem like they are made of some kind of silvery slop, hardened. And there are other really strange materials as well -- spongy stool coverings, triple thick plastics, cargo container for shipping the stores, that become POS, and the changing rooms; a new graphic language, then curious spreads to product -- like PUMA | Ferrari. Whacky music. I asked them...

scented this, darling? I'm loving this, more: Dzongkha, L'Artisan Parfumeur. Or Timbuktu. 

Quiet, the silent twins, mingled. They must be out wandering... Wishing well, all hallows day. tsg | princeton