variation in air pressure

a bruise on her right cheek from the cradle of my hip. bone to bone. 
how i first met her. the sounds of her and a variation in air pressure.
"variation in air pressure",  24" x 24" oil paint and acrylic paint on canvas




the way we were.
as a designer i'm a modernist. almost a minimalist. i thought i would be this way in life as in art...forever.

as i walked around new york city, daydreaming with spongy covered headphones on my way down to pearl paint, smelling the steam blow south from houston i thought this is it:  i'll find one of these lofts just like my professors at parsons and the new school and live and work. all i need to really live is light, my feet, a sidewalk, coffee, books and space to work. always thinking ahead, i thought maybe i'd find one in brooklyn. soho had not yet become a mall but that was coming. i was ambitious, met influential people and was under 18 years of age.

the walk was special. it was the golden walk to canal and the treasures of plastic, metal, wood, little hardware goodies, fabric, and paint. early in the morning sun and steam, trucks delivered materials, a few galleries surrounded me, and light manufacturing was already at work. sure jerry's was still there and fanelli cafe, where i would see lebbeus woods sitting for lunch sketching on a napkin at the bar. on my way back i would splurge on a cup of coffee at dean & deLuca if i could swing some extra change. my dad told me deLuca was an old classmate, and that he had been a school teacher. he said he opened a special grocery and that there was nothing like it below 14th street.

at that young age, i looked to my professor's lifestyles for clues of who i could be. i looked at their houses and creative practices. i thought it would be hard, but as we cannot project the future or understand the pressures or responsibilities that will come at us, i allowed myself to daydream.

in some way i had always thought that i would eventually have more spare change. more space, more practice, more energy, big clients, white walls, and interesting shoes. i'd be the founder of some discursive practice, crossing art and architecture deftly. i would never get sick beyond a sniffle. i'd wear black with signature scarves and smart glasses. i'd be single but attached. i'd be a painter, a teacher, an architect. i'd drink a lot of coffee and write interesting things. the phone would ring often bringing opportunity to jet-set. the sun would stream in my "loft" window as it bounced off one of the rivers. i would have a room with a view.

i'd take new york.

but i never thought about these other things:

i might not be single.
i might be gutsy enough to leave new york city at some point.
i might have a car.
i might be surrounded by color.
i might own cafe curtains in a 1920's fabric style and like the nostalgia they evoke.
i might want to garden.
i might look out my window and see pink shutters and smile.
i might love a tree.
i might experience a real live rainbow on a daily basis.

i might live in a different city yet be tethered to new york in a way that is not impossible for a big city dreamer.


outside of ourselves

how does one think about light and effects through a spatial experience? how can one manipulate various materials to create complex visual and tactile reactions? how do we let our imaginations make something that manipulates light and vision in real time, outside of ourselves? how do we design?
this is what we focus on in the first year of design school.

we are in the center of the city. we use the city as our fabric.

during our time in studio we move about the building and campus, always looking.

we study window precedents from history:

Work from "Fundamentals of Design and the Built Environment", Common First Year Studio at Georgia Institute of Technology School of Architecture. 2012 Spring Studio.

some imaginings and experiments: material studies