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things change & don't change. it's the same car that picked you & the kid up at the airport - that took you & bobbie to the country . . . and although they say that the lighthouse is going to be replaced (by a more efficient beacon) i have my doubts, since things move slowly here and even more so in the countryside


but there were no grapes when you were here, or the vines hadn't started to bear fruit. that's it: erika hasn't stopped planting: often so deep in she is inseparable from the ground in the tall grass. and sometimes now,take those grapes - red ones & green ones - up to bed & munch them lying there, reading or whatever: your own grapes, amazing!


and objects ( our little constructions, these, erika's) offering a little (pious) protection in a world filled not only with life & beauty, but with the perpetual danger that seems inseparable: so that the two mix in offering and request, celebration and attentiveness.


but originally, this was (only) to tell you about the benches but the benches are inseparable from the table. the table, my apprenticeship


one after the other. but your & keja's memory were very close - but not so brut, so "rustic" - and the hard red finish you gave the side was great but i rarely have the patience to paint - sand - paint - sand - paint (although something is changing: i don't think of it as "patience", but as something i want to do: so, it becomes possible to do, know what i mean?)


and under the grass are 1000's of coins, from all over the world, (collected by erika from all those coin stashes we all have) and planted there by her, as a circle of abundance, which, in it's own way, can already be seen to have born fruit.


so it's true, there's some idea of improving kills. i love working with the wood. it doesn' come that easily. a little like film-making (putting it together). and at last i started to think about finishes: linseed, varnish, wax, paint, mixing them up - learning something more. taking wood from friends' houses: like this old piece from a 19th century barn (above). and tools: oh, a good tool!



so i see: a watercolor i did when i was 12, the stained-glass lamp erika made while we were editing milestones, & waiting for keja's birth - a watercolor by sarkis, a japanese vase from 277 park avenue, a watercolor by keja, pumpkins from our garden. this amazing bead-work erika is doing now while listening very late at night to stories on the BBC - & the captain (a chainsaw artist we met in the keys while preparing route one): my captain: a pilot & responsible for his ship . . . . .


it was after shooting "a line through time." i got a message: a gift had arrived from "indians in bolivia." a 'mesa'. an accumulation of i don't know what: candies, beans. fat, cookies, all sitting in a bed of cotton that looks like a bacteria - growth. you wish, you project what you want - it is offered to you, "a gift" - & you offer it back, to the fire that returns it to its state.


another treasure chest of traces, of arrows shooting backwards & forward through time:




of course you will recognize the lion house. nothing much changed. although you would not know it was keja's bowl/vase or recognize the welding glasses from the ukraine, or the buddha from vietnam, the package of sand from the bay of pigs, the knife jane van loon gave me, or the postcard of joseph conrad, another captain of a ship. nor would you recognize me & erika celebrating new year's 1995-96 with bird masks by the river, or the halls of the hotel in hanoi.


even the last bench (or table) or whatever it is, doesn't change anything, although i was a little more careful & tried to plan it more before, and i discovered black laquer, and the parts that are oak are fine! and matt's painting looks down, and it says, "what are you guys up to? no, really!" which leaves me still heavily under-teched, behind, ah tools! i think my time is coming.


although this typewriter uses disks now (at least) and i can't complain about the Hi8 deck (3 features on it) but the results with the Hi8 digital i used for "a line through time" are great, and the editing is indispensible, and i want e-mail, and so (believe it or not) the time is right and i am taking the steps and saving my pennies, and before long, another door will be opened.


yeah, another door. and it's this mixture of things that's great - this priviledge to take and try and play with and be wrong & right & pay and not-pay. you share this too. that's a reason i love you. and it's very rare. "being less bound up, less fixed," and it is something to keep trying out, & to be responsible for making the accounts that give it some sense that others can share. see you, my friend -

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