119. Motions
How we go through. The "intro to the night house" sequence. Malaise, words, strangeness.
It’s high summer in NYC. The Knicks won, there was a parade, etc. The World Cup is happening in a parallel universe; I thought I’d be more invested. The heat has gone placid, smoothing out into a breezy lightness. And now rain. Even as I give in, I feel a special kind of despair at seeing that it’s nearly July. How does this happen? The other day I read a beautiful poem by a friend in probably the most well-known literary magazine in the world. She has two small children and multiple professional responsibilities—sometimes I think scarcity drives its own productivity. A part of me wants to make myself poorer of time, so that I can value it more.
In the studio
Physical therapy is a marvel—I should have gone sooner.
Progress with the film is steady, if slow. I’m coming up to what feels like an inflection point; it inspires the anxiety of a mirage, but the only way to traverse these stretches is to suspend disbelief and proceed.
I’ve been working on a long sequence, “intro to the night house,” since my residency at MacDowell. Last time: an open window, a candle, and a strange clock striking over a laden table. Today, painted scrolls of ancestors rustling in the wind.
Keys:
Breakdowns:
Inbetweens, and a wall of masks:
Beyond the masks, a family:
Short and sweet today—wrapping with a wee list of what I’ve been taking in lately.
Provisions
The Debutante. Animated short film by Lizzy Hobbs.
Conversations with Friends. Novel by Sally Rooney.
Paris, France. Memoir by Gertrude Stein.
“AI and the future of writing.” Three authors in conversation. The Yale Review.
“The Good End of Pleasant Street.” Memoir essay in The Sun. (Please consider supporting this wonderful literary magazine.)
Thanks for reading and have a great rest of the week. Investors, continue below and take a closer look at how this sequence is coming together. Plus, a micro essay in closing, “Strange.”