either way neither way

thanks for the music, and so much more.

2006-07-03T16:17:00.000-04:00

The Odyssey, Book 14: Hospitality in the Forest

2006-06-20T13:46:00.000-04:00

foiled.

2006-05-01T21:00:00.001-04:00

we count each blade of grass

2006-04-30T23:20:00.000-04:00

videoblogging presentation

2006-04-24T05:26:00.000-04:00

let go

2006-04-10T01:11:00.000-04:00

playing games

2006-03-26T23:26:00.000-05:00

potential

2006-03-19T20:23:00.000-05:00

hidden history

2006-03-13T01:53:00.000-05:00

mothering

2006-03-12T21:59:00.000-05:00

My mom tells me about some family photos, including a photo of the day that the family that adopted her brought her home, and they started their new family.

about visual language

2006-02-27T01:19:00.000-05:00

a video about learning how to speak visually.

moments missing

2006-02-13T00:28:00.000-05:00

This weekend I was supposed to go out to my mom's house and start working on our video project that I mentioned in my last post - a project about family secrets, history, and difference. We were planning to go through photos and paintings of my grandmother, and to work out a plan for the video project, on video. I want to document our process as part of the project and as a way of getting us both comfortable with being on camera. I am going to use this space as a sort of "sketch book" for this project.

This moment, however, is missing. I could not visit her because of the snow storm. Instead, I spent the weekend working, DJing a fundraiser for the People's Hurricane Relief Fund (see 'other things to click on' for info. on this group), getting in some time with friends, and wandering around a snowy west philly with a video camera and no gloves, as they are also missing.

asking too much

2006-02-05T23:44:00.001-05:00

I have always been sure that my family has secrets. Every family does, just as every person does. Parts, pieces, and whispers of these mysteries would trickle down to me, as a child, whenever my immediate family would visit my extended family. Great-grandparents and grandparents, uncles, cousins, and brothers, all lived about 5 hours away from us. Getting to them was a twisting, often rainy drive from New Jersey, past the Poconos, to a small coal mining town situated in a valley along the Susquehanna River. Our visits "back home" were usually reserved for special occasions, like Christmas, Easter, a new birth, or death.

I remember the way the adults used to talk around my brother and I, the way most adults talk around children. They would still say what they needed to say, their eyes glancing at us for a second as they dropped their voices to slightly more hushed tones; they dropped a few key words as well and replaced them with phrases like "you know what" and "you know who" , or even worse, just a pause.

Admittedly, it was hard to always know the specifics of what they were discussing, but we could at least tell when they were saying something that was clearly important, controversial, or dangerous. In these moments, my little brother and I would pretend to be invisible and sit very still, hoping for a slip of the tongue. Or, we would act disinterested and make a big show of wrecking each other's newly constructed lego buildings. We never turned our heads from the legos strewn all over the floor, but our ears were trained on the conversation several feet away. Adults think that children don't know, understand, or care, but children do. I'm pretty sure it's some sort of survival instinct.

We picked up a few complete thoughts from time to time - Uncle Bill and Aunt Sharon were getting a divorce (we knew that word, haha), my cousin Heather had a boyfriend who was much too old for her and she was probably having s-e-x- with him, and stay away from Uncle Skinner, he's a bad man who does bad things (we didn't like him anyway, he was too loud and was mean to Aunt Angie who made the best Italian cookies and was always laughing).

There were some secrets, however, that I just could not get ahold of. Many of them revolved around my mother. I knew there was something unique about her, there were too many things that were never said, rather than things that were. There was silence when there should have been some noise. Just over a year ago, my mother revealed her biggest, oldest secret to me. I'm sure it's not her only one (who has just one secret?), but it was monumental. I was only the second person she had ever told in her entire life, the first being a therapist that she saw briefly after she got divorced. She never told my father, her best friend, or anyone of any importance in her life. She had not planned to tell me that day, it was almost entirely accidental that she did. My mom had believed that she would take this story with her to her grave, but the story finally overwhelmed all those moments of silence that held it in, surprising her by unfolding itself in front of us. It flowed out, like she had practiced saying the words a thousand times in wait for a moment that she believed would never actually come. I am grateful that it did, but we have not spoken of it since.

Tonight I asked her if she would let me interview her and make a video essay, about that day, that moment, and what she calls her "situation". She said "no", and "I can't possibly" and "you're asking too much". I felt ashamed for having asked. But we stayed on the phone together, both of us quiet and fidgeting. After some time, I stumbled my way through all the reasons that it's important to me to make this video, and why I think it's important for her too, she finally said "yes." I am overwhelmed by her trust, impressed by her courage.

It's exciting to think that we never stop being challenged, we never stop discovering and revealing ourselves, no matter our age.

beginnings

2006-01-30T00:55:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure which causes me more anxiety - the thought of putting thoughts, opinions, theoretically art and essentially myself out into the world for nearly anyone to see/read/watch/hear/interact with and not knowing who they are, or knowing who they are. Friends who I will ask to look at this, classmates who I don't yet know who will likely be required to look at this, and of course, anyone else with access to a computer and an internet connection. The potential is overwhelming, the shortcomings inevitable. Maybe if something scares you, that's the very reason why you should do it.