We continue to charge forward (if in fragments) between GA and NY. Check this site to see more.
We used the platform between us to celebrate an origami tea ritual taken from 16th cen. Dutch shipbuilders going blind, no longer able to build large scale.
These reliable structures, support systems, and platforms for connection were presented at Come and Sit With Us Because We Miss You last week, November 10th-12th, on the East River.
Last weekend Chris Kennedy and I presented A Message from Below in Montreal for UnOccupied Spaces, a project put on by Artivistic. It was an experimental walk, a conversation with objects rather than words, and an attempt to access the space above us from street level. Our collaboration fused my mobile mountain (Lamre) of extendable poles with Chris’ research about the appetite of mother earth (Despacho ceremonies). See more images here.
Solar One Lecture Series
This Week’s Green Renter: The Participatory and Environmental Art of Caroline Woolard
Potable Prototypes: Ingestion as Visceral Knowledge
Speaker: Caroline Woolard, Artist
Caronline Woolard, a graduate of Cooper Union and Fellow of the Oxbow Residency Program will share insights into environmental and participatory art, as well as examples of her own work. Ms. Woolard will conduct a discussion about such works and involve the audience in a dialogue about the future of her ongoing projects and everything in between.
Join us on Tuesday October 30th at 7pm
Flickr slideshow.
Slowly, the new seats arrive. For Conflux, they are mysterious. For a noPARK with the xDesign Clinic run by Natalie Jeremijenko, one moved from Roebling in Williamsburg to the East Village.
I’ve spent the past 2 months as a Fellow at Oxbow, a summer residency program run through the Art Institute of Chicago. Here Liz Tubergen, Grant Goeman and I started the 6 Foot Collaboratory. I also did a project for CitySol with plastic bags supporting my body’s weight.
Climbing my way towards levitation. Why do cars get all the headroom?
Street trees drop their leaves and bare the winter, forever waiting at the curb in picket fenced dreams.
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