Love that delicious long moment, turning the corner from sleep to awakeness. My pillowcase and blanket are yellow, and my bottom-sheet white, so I emerge into the illusion of sunlight, or the middle of an egg.
I thought we had rehearsal this morning, but turns out it was moved to the evening, and since I left my planner in Jersey City I missed it. But nice to wake up so early to a free day. I have a nutty, messy collage I made in a quasi-ecstatic, exhausted, homesick fit last Thursday, hung next to my bed, so it was the first non-egg-colored thing I put my eyes on this morning. Immediately made me hungry to look at Marianne Brandt and Hannah Höch, the two collage-artists who most directly (as in, if you were to look at my collage, you'd think, "This girl likes those ladies a LOT") inspire me. I googled them, and here are some works of theirs I have to show you.
from the top, those pics are:"Me" by Marianne Brandt, collage by Hannah Höch, a poster for "Ce Qu'il en Reste" ("What Remains") choreographed by Louise Bedard, and based on Höch's collages, and two untitleds by Brandt, from 1924
Also in the googling, came up a very cool
blog/website of a gallerist and artist living in Portland, Or. Check it out for beautiful visuals and thought-provoking words on looking and meaning.
I realize I never wrote anything about my time in Mexico. It's hardest to write about the things you feel strongest about, isn't it? Especially in a public place. It was the most beautiful wedding. I'm so lucky to have witnessed these celebrations of truly awe-inspiring love. Tali and Daniel's last June on the beach in Jaffo- so much love exploding everywhere, at some point (midnight?) a big group of us couldn't hold ourselves back from running straight from the dancefloor into the ocean, where we gambolled (is that a real word? Or Louis Carroll creation?) in the waves like we were golden retrievers.
Rebecca and Sol had the presence of mind to realize that everyone would need days of wave-playing to feel sated in our celebration of their marriage. And the New Year. And the fact that we were all together in *Mexico*!!!
Oaxaca is the most richly colored, pungent-everything, corner of the world I've seen since India. Actually, I kept thinking of India during my time in Mexico. Something in the richness of life, the direct and tangible line of thousands of years connected to this moment, the poverty, but also this potential I could feel for continued and accelerated movement forward. Oaxaca's not a "tourist town" at the same time that it's been colonized by tourists. It almost feels like people come there to be colonized by the town instead. You want it to stamp itself into you permanently like you're a piece of soft tin, ready to have the birds and hearts and skulls of Oaxaca pressed into you.
you know what? I'm stumbling on this. Maybe I should have written about it right when I came back, when the lack of sequence of my memories would be redeemed by the vividness of the colors, which would have bled inexorably into my language. Now it's all tainted by my week back here. I'll paste some pictures from the trip and give you the two most important facts you need to know, aside from the perfect union of Rebecca and Sol, and that their Catholic ceremony was done in Spanish, next to the largest (in circumference) tree in the world: the 3,000 year-old el Tule just outside the city of Oaxaca:
1. I got bitten in the ass by a dog.
2. I fell in love.
