Went to see an exhibition of Mowry Baden's notebook drawings at Deluge Gallery yesterday. Mostly ballpoint-pen attempts at conveying physical movement, spatial relationships, kinetic objects. Clearly someone using drawing as an aid to sculptural practice, the lines impatient to get on with the real thing. The good ones had an infectious, unfinished energy because of this ( think Duchamp's "Nude Descending a Staircase" drawn in 30 seconds on a restaurant napkin.) The weaker, more labored, ones reminded me of Joe Johnston production sketches, minus the droids and x-wings.

I posted the above drawing for it's text, not it's drawing. I like the way Baden's poetic descriptions of visual phenomenon ( "A pale mold, spreading, fading.") are forced to share the page with his disgruntled musings on fulbright applicants. Ah, a life in the arts.

Collected moving boxes on the way home from the gallery. A dumpster here, a supermarket there. The apartment is currently in flux. Kitchen being slowly dismantled, bookshelves empty, art coming down, polyfill being squeezed into every available nail hole and crevice. Bits of wall and floor that haven't seen sun in 18 months now suddenly peeking out from under moved pictures and dragged bookshelves. Our residence coming down like an installation, the space doing a long exhale.