Walking around at 2AM, then at 6AM, same streets, different lighting, different mood, different spacial reality. at night, below houston, below delancey could be hoxton square, london - kreuzberg, berlin. if i think hard enough i am transported there. veiled in darkness, the street activities are highlighted, blips of conversations caught from passing groups of carousing revelers, bars and restraunts spilling onto the streets, and being a thursday night, everyone on the verge of going home. 6AM, bright sun, garbage, traffic. shapes of buildings, color of concrete, faces - everyone in single file, going somewhere specific. the only things open are starbucks, duane reade, dunkin donuts, no real food to be found. he sun is reflecting off a window across the street and creating "indirect" dancing shapes while large trucks pass by on delancey.
all the same, no one seems to care what i am doing. some people on a bike last night said they liked my picture, and we talked about wheat paste a little bit, but thats really it. crazy.
i've always always always worked best with found materials. its something i learned from my grandfather. a new pristine piece of plywood, in my mind, should stay that way. a cut up crappy one can be anything. literally anything. thats what makes this project so right in my mind. the spaces i've found are easily overlooked, yet each has unique chracteristics which have built over time. layers of paint, chunks cut out then repaired, tape, scaffolding, each element makes them unique.
ok, here's some images:
Thursday's parting shot
9 hours ago