"loop pile"
a word gifted to me by my German friend, Kisa. Saur
to describe the pile of line at kiters' feet
and my favorite found drawings.

The ones below were collected at the Cervia International Kite Festival in April of 2010. 

 Anna Rubin's delicate monofilament

Ohye Makoto's Edo kiteline(synthetic braid)?
such surprising angularly
stored on a bamboo winder in a rotating figure eight.

Alessia Marrocu's rokoko battle line
postal twine
she explained it never gets cut (truth, it survived the battle just fine)
before lift off she'd pick it up, shake it and flip it before dropping it again to make it stay all in one mass, a loose tangle.

Kisa.'s dyneema line.

A couple of days ago this work returned home from Gallery 817. The collection of work in the show felt quite strong and associating this small series with other work refreshed my thoughts and got my mind churning in new directions.

Now that they are up on the wall at home again I find myself orienting  my body in their direction just to gaze at them in the brief pauses between tasks. Following the sinuous paths brings me to the many moments throughout my life where I've paused at the edge of darkened pools to stare into the ever patterned ripples of water or studied raindrops streaking down a window. If given the freedom of time, I will sit for hours, mesmerized, watching for the perfect repeat and never quite able to grasp them.

In many ways this collection excites the same feeling even as it satiates it.  An obsessive gaze is finally allowed to rest on preserved individuals for contemplative study. Here are only fifteen, but many more await capture.

Once wound on to paper spools (or quills), the threads live in a jar. There are five occupants currently. How far they might reach if unrolled is unknown.

What are you doing?

Collecting.

Why?

I am the Collector.

Where are the stones from?

The river.

How long will it take you?

A long time.

When will you be done?

Probably never.

My own hair has been a growing collection for almost two years now. When I cut it myself, I keep it perfunctorily, but what truly captures me is the collection of strands: from my brush, from washing it, from my hair ties, sometimes when I sweep the floor I gather the strands and remove the dust fritz and my friend's hair, I have to be feeling a bit obsessive for that process though. Even so the pile grows achingly slow. My brother-in-law has playfully called my loose strands Err-hairs ever since he was a kid, being a 10 year old in a house of crew-cut boys, it may have seemed my very body was taking over his space. My younger brother shivers a little bit as the pile grows, a result of watching Eraserhead I believe, but for me it is fascination, hair plays an important role as an undercurrent of civilization: myth, stories, history and science. Hair is dna, power (Samson), youth, a reminder of death, grows beyond death, and releases itself from the body strand by strand breadcrumbs to where you have existed. I think about the movie Gattaca where Vincent, the main character struggles against his own body's dna, evidence which marks him as an In-Valid in his culture, Rapunzel's freedom and desirability, some Orthodox Jewish wives wear wigs of other women's hair to hide their own hair and thus their sexuality.

I have always wished I was born with true red hair with my freckles, but for whatever reason I am too attached to my own color to dye it. The above photo is tricky and makes it more red than it is, the photo below is closer to reality.

I have always collected natural artifacts, from the moment I discovered pockets as a toddler to just this past weekend when I added a fist full of acorns from Georgia to my dad's old tool box turned cabinet of curiosities. I think as a result I have always found Joseph Cornell's work interesting in part at least because he too was a collector. I imagine his little basement studio filled to the brim with his curiosites and notes on life, celebrities and nature, and oh I wish I could poke around a bit.

via the washingtonpost.com

Someone brought to my attention that the SFMOMA is having an exhibit of Joseph Cornell's work. Unfortunately it's much too far away to visit, and I am rather disappointed about it, but to tide me over while I mope, they have a great (if slightly slow) interactive website for the show! I am very excited to be able to see some of one of his early altered books. Check it out here. If you wish to see the book, go to the site and click on the bottles and then on the orange.

The site mentions the concept of curiosity cabinets as well:

From the 1500's to the 1700's, European royalty and affluent individuals often gathered an array of art, illustrated texts and maps, coins, scientific devices and natural specimens to create"cabinets of curiosities." Dense arrangements in drawers, chests, and glass fronted cases in private chambers suggested a collector's highly personal view of the cosmos in miniature.

How does one define the "highly personal view of the cosmos" as evidenced by collections? What do my collections say about me? At certain times in my life when I feel most lost, I attempt to find my bearings through the impossible and somewhat ridiculous task of mapping out my life. Elaborate lists, statements and mind maps fill pages and pages. I mine sketchbooks and childhood memories. Searching. Where is the thread? What are the themes? How am I, I? Eventually the chatter exhausts me and I stop. Usually I pull valuable reminders from it, but mostly it is overwhelming. Later I laugh at myself. "Personal view of the cosmos" is such a neat and tidy phrase. Yet the deeper one looks a tangled mess it becomes. When I am not looking to lists and maps to find my center or the way forward, I find a partial maps sit on my shelves in in my drawers, in the form on my little collections of objects. If I sit still and admire them they reveal themselves to me such quiet little whispers I barely hear and yet they speak, softly, calming, here listening isn't so tiresome.

Someday I'll elaborate more on Cornell, but I just wanted to bring the site to your attention. I'll be back soon, two weeks goes by too quickly!