I am working as hard as I can to understand this virus. If the politicians had listened to the public health experts earlier, they would have understood the NOSOGEOGRAPHY of this disease, and would have warned us sooner to prepare. In the “spirit” of social distancing, this gal takes to the dance floor with her guitar and her tutu, completely alone.
In these dark times, I find a mask on the ground and wonder if it will protect me from a germ mofette that is releasing invisible substances all about.
There were scientists who warned us, be we didn’t listen. There were doomsday shouters, but we didn’t hear them. I sit in my house looking outside, through a piece of film, like rose colored glasses, allowing me to see what I want to see. I cannot vaticinate today, cannot prophesize tomorrow. I know enough to know what I do not know.
The sounds, rhythms, and feelings that are heard, felt, and sensed being outside in New York City during the summer is one of a kind. Being at a block party captures all of these sensations, HOLUS BOLUS. I had never been to a block party in Brooklyn and when I did finally go, I was torn between enjoying the moment (sans technology) or shooting a quick video to capture the moment and share with my friends and family later. I chose the latter. In this video, everything is captured. Though in a hasting fashion, from the stoop of the brownstone, at a sort of CULMINANT, you can: palpitate the sound of the speakers, the rhythm of the hip-hop music playing, the urge to dance from your street, and the need say nothing–just watch, listen, and record.
I was looking for peach blossom in New York.
I went to Brooklyn Botanic Garden and just found some scattered flowers on the peach trees.
In my memory, the peach blossom in China looked like bulky pink clouds.
On Roosevelt Island, I found the cherry blossom. I told myself it looked like the peach blossom I was looking for.
Sound artist Viv Corringham invites local people in communities around the world to take her on “Shadow Walks” through their neighborhood. She records the conversations. Later she retraces the person’s walk on her own and “sings the walk” through vocal improvisations, and records her singing. These recordings are edited together to make the final sound piece. “Broken Land” from her CD “Walking” is the result of my taking her on a walk along the Gowanus Canal.
An area rug on cobblestones, reserved for women, framed one of the explorations of beauty offered to the Dumbo Art Festival audience by the South Asian Women’s Creative Collective. Revelatory for the women who accepted the invitation to wear the hijab, and revelatory for the male on-looker.