Day six

Inspiration, nudity and the color yellow.




Woke this morning, went to Saline Beach. I think that will be my designated favorite beach. It’s close, secluded and really amazing. There were about 9 people spread out on the entire beach and there was lot’s of nudity. Nearest to me was a mom and her son, she topless reading book, there was a couple with matching, straw, sun hats who were entirely nude, minus the hats. They went in the water holding hands and were glued to each other the entire time they were in the water. I wasn’t about to go buff, but I did manage to take off my swim shorts once I got in the water, which was basically pointless because the water is so clear that people can see your whole body from the beach. It was fun being nude. When I got home from the beach I remembered that Maya told me she would often swim in the pool nude when she was here alone for a week before I got here, so that inspired me and I soon found myself floating around the pool, free of shorts and then I even lounged around the deck for a while to completely erase any tan lines I had acquired since I got here.
Before going to the beach, I woke and went out to the deck and started taking the sheets and towels off the line that the maid had hung there yesterday. I was really happy to have started the day with a task. The laundry smelled really nice and I enjoyed folding it into one, large tower that I placed on a chair. After I’d figured I’d had enough sun up by the pool, I came down and saw the pile of folded, crisp, clean, white sheets and all I wanted to do was take one and wear it instead of getting ‘dressed’. What I really wanted to do was take one and cut a whole for my head, two for my arms and get some string and make a custom belt. This seemed like the perfect fashion for my first solo day here in the house. It would be light, airy and keep me clean from paint once I started working. I even fancied decorating it a bit with a magic marker, perhaps doing a drawing on it or something...maybe even cut some slits at the bottom to make some fringe. Funny the things you allow yourself to do when you are completely alone, like creating one of kind out-fits. It reminds me a bit of what happened to Jack Nicholson in The Shining, except he was in the snow and I’m in the sun. I may work on the sheet-dress another day while I’m here, but for today I went with a more traditionally masculine look and ended up putting on some boxer shorts and a white tee-shirt and left the beautifully folded sheets alone. At least for today. Apparently I’m over my self consciousness of writing a personal blog since I’m sharing my wishes to delve into my feminine side by creating billowy, dress like, alternative fashions.
It was probably a good thing I didn’t get too creative with my look today because, as it turns out, the house ended up having a few visitors. Two guys knocked on the door and walked in around noon and told me they were here with the water. I think all of the homes here have to order water and have it delivered into big tanks underneath the house. They pulled up in what looked like a large oil truck but instead of oil it was water. They took a long hose and brought it up from the truck, through the house, all the way to the back deck, where they picked up a trap door in the floor and placed the other end of the hose. They had to come back six times with the truck to fill the house!
While the house was being filled with water, two French speaking guys came up the back path and appeared out of nowhere, both were carrying chain saws. They told me they came to cut down some branches and prune some things. So, the yard was getting a trim and the house was being watered. That’s when I took off for the beach.
In the afternoon I went to the ‘downtown’ area, Gustavia, which is where the gallery is. I stopped by to see Martina and I took this picture of her with the dog that lives next door to the gallery. His name is Cookie - and like cookies - the treats that are bitten by people, Cookie the dog, instead, likes to bite into people, constantly......see here:

They really hired the right person when they hired Martina for the job of director of this residency. She’s so sweet, kind and accommodating. She holds it all together here. I think at some point she and I are going to go snorkeling, which I’m a little (a lot) nervous about, but I don’t want to pass up that opportunity either. The water is so clear and beautiful here.
The rest of the day consisted of me trying to figure out what would be the best work schedule for art making. It seems like the very early morning for a couple hours will work, and then again in the evening. The day time hours are completely useless to be working here. Now I understand why the businesses on the island close down in the afternoon for a couple hours. There are too many nice beaches lobbying for ones attention, and it’s too hot to be working. It’s the same in New York, I find it impossible to do anything creative or constructive in the afternoon from around 2:30 till around 5:30, which isn’t to say I don’t try, believe me I do, but the best work is done in the night time or the morning. This blog is turning out to be quite time consuming, and I’m enjoying it, so that’s something else I have to fit into my days here.
The other thing is this, being on this sunny, beautiful island, I think my mind is slowly turning to mush. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. There’s just a completely different set of stimulations here than what I’m used to in the busy city. For instance, here, I can find myself watching a bird for about ten minutes, checking to see where it’s flying off to next, listening to what kind of sound it makes, or I can wander around taking pictures of plants in the yard or staring out at the view off the porch, and before I notice, poof, two hours are gone. By contrast, in the city, I get work done, and there are always emails to tend to, or news to read on the internet. In the city it’s back and forth between distraction and work, and here that back and forth seems to be muted. When I say my mind is turning to mush, by mush I might just mean, relaxed. Which is something my boyfriend will be happy to read and my therapist will be proud of. For crying out loud, the first thing I thought to do when I got back from the beach today was to TAKE A NAP. I don’t take naps in my normal life in New York, especially in the day time, but apparently here it’s completely fine by me to just lay down and snooze for a bit after a hectic visit to the beach, soaking up some sun and splashing about, nude no less, in the crystal clear water. Now I understand why people smoke pot and listen to reggae in such sunny climes. Well, I’m not that relaxed. Reggae will never appeal to me, mush or no mush.
So, this evening I started working. I set up a table, opened a box of supplies that I sent a head of time to the island, plugged in a big lamp and started painting paper black, which is one of the first things I do to start. I had to tape down the papers so they didn’t blow away. Even though I’ve hardly done any work, I feel better now that I’ve started. I’m here for less than a month and it’s a little weird to get my bearings and start working. I have a routine in my studio back in the city, as everyone does, and to be off on another planet in the Caribbean for 29 days will take some getting used to. I think one would really have to be here for a couple months or more to get into a groove. Salon 94 shipped some finished pieces a head of time for my show at the end of my residency, which is good. They sent some drawings/paintings on paper and some Polaroids. They are all already framed. I have three small/medium size canvases to work on while I’m here that I want to have done for the show as well. The show will be on one of the last days that I’m here at the end of the month.
Does one come to a place like this, a new place, new surroundings, an artist residency, away from the norm in hopes to be inspired? Or is it just quiet time away to continue what you would normally be doing back at your usual studio and surroundings? I don’t know if I’m inspired by my surroundings here. Plus, I’ve surrendered to the island living - mushification of my brain, so even if I were inspired, I don’t that I would notice it. Don’t get me wrong, It’s beautiful here, and I love having the time away, and I have no doubt I’ll make something that I like while I’m here, but I’m treating this experience more like a break away from my usual studio practice and schedule. In New York, I wake up early, take the subway with Jonathan and we go to work together, he gets off on 53rd Street on the east side and I continue one stop off Manhattan to Long Island City to work in my studio, which I typically do until about 6 or 7 or 8 at night. I clock in a lot of hours there. So, this is nice to be away from that for a spell. Time is different here and I am glad to be experiencing that. I’m also grateful. I was invited here by Marc Jancou a collector and curator whom I’ve met a few times, both through my gallery in London, HOTEL, and through Salon 94 in New York. He and Fergus McCaffrey are the creators of the residency. I look forward to meeting Fergus as we’ve never met. My friend Nancy called me tonight from Chicago and we were talking about this notion of being inspired and she pointed out that the inspiration may not be overt and apparent but I’m always inspired by my immediate surroundings, as everyone is. So, we shall see what kind of work I actually come up with here. Having said all that, as I was painting my paper black tonight, I was thinking about color and I thought, gosh, it would be really great to do a YELLOW painting while I’m here because I’m actually inspired by these tiny little lemons that fall off a tree somewhere in the yard. They are small, just big enough to slice open and place in a beer or two (which I haven’t done yet, I don’t have the heart to slice them) see here:

I’ve tried several times to work yellow into paintings. Yellow is real hard. It’s always straight up YELLOW no matter how hard you try to integrate it with other colors and shapes. I used to use a color a lot that was sort of lime-green, but that was a long time ago. Anyway, maybe yellow will be my inspiration here and I’ll finally be able to pull off a yellow painting, which may not have happened if I wasn’t here. Of course I didn’t ship any yellow paint, I only sent the colors I use, and those are: Mars Black, Titanium White, Van Dyke Brown, Burnt Sienna, Gray, and a tan/fleshy color named, “Titan Buff”, which is such a great name for that color. It’s very gay. Maybe I could have Jonathan Fedex me some yellow’s and I can call the painting, “Fedex Yellow”, I think that would be a good title. Oh, and by the way, all my paints exploded on the flight over here. Not a big deal, still useable, but it’s a mess, check it out:








So, that’s it for today. I’m tired and I’ve got mosquitos to swat. As I end today’s blog, the song on my radio is that great song, “Bittersweet Symphony” by the Verve.
It reminds me of Princess Diana’s death because I think that song was big around that time. I was living in San Francisco then, the most beautiful city in the United States. Whatever happened to The Verve? That song was so great and I remember the video being real simple and good. The song before that was, “Manic Monday” by the Bangles. I think Prince wrote that song, it reminds me of high school. I’ll write again tomorrow. Below are some other pictures from today.







here’s a little movie from this evening around sunset:

Day five

Part two



Ok, it’s nigh time!
So far so good, I’m not too spooked. The sun went down about a half hour ago. I’m sitting out on the porch, three citronella candles burning to help stave off the mosquitos, and the radio is on to help stave off serial killers that could be lurking behind any one of these large tropical plants that surround the property. On the radio is some French speaking station playing French songs with an American tune here and there, Billy Idol, “Eyes Without a Face”....Sonny and Cher, “The Beat Goes On”....you know, completely random. I left to go to the beach this afternoon and to the grocery store. The maid was here and I felt silly sitting around in the sun whilst she was buzzing around cleaning the mansion. She speaks only French and I speak only English so we couldn’t communicate. She tried to ask me something and I was at a total loss....so we just smiled at each other and to break the awkward moment I offered her a diet coke from the fridge, since I was getting one for myself. She declined. I’m so lame, speaking only the one language. I can’t even speak Spanish with Jonathan, never mind French with the maid. I would love to learn another language, but I always think it’s one of those things you have to do when your young and your brain is still receptive. Learning a language is right up there with learning how to play the piano, another thing I wish I could do, but that’s probably for another lifetime. I’ll have to make a note-to-self to learn those two things early the next time around. There’s something about the piano - it seems as though I should be able to just sit at one and play whatever I’d like, no problem, without lessons, like a natural. The layout of the piano as a whole, makes sense to me...I have this fantasy that I really could just play the piano instantly, but I can’t. If I were six again and tried, I bet I could be one of those musical geniuses. But alas, I’m not.
I’ve already been the butt of two anti-American jokes while being here on the French island, and one direct insult for being American. None of these came from people I know or are have anything to do with the residency that I’m doing here. I was in a conversation with some people the first night I was here and this German guy told this joke, he says, “What do you call a person that speaks three languages?” and everyone replies, “trilingual”. Then he says, “what do you call someone that speaks two languages?” and everyone replies, “bilingual” and then he says, “What do you call someone who speaks one language”, and he points to me and says, “American”. And everyone laughed. Har, har, har I thought. Not a big deal, but still, no one likes being the butt of a joke. The other incident, the direct insult came last night when I was eating dinner with some folks and we were chatting about traveling as most everyone I’ve met here is not from the US. One woman was from Belgium and I asked her if she had ever been to the US and she said, “No”. I asked her if she was interested in going and she said, “No, because it’s full of Americans”. Ok, I’m sensitive, and I didn’t take it personal, but I thought, what an unfortunate way to look at things. I know America is a pretty shitty place on the world political stage, but heck, I hate Bush more than the next person. Anyway, it’s just weird to say that to someone when they are actually from the US.....if she said it behind my back to other Europeans, fine, I totally understand.
Anyway, back to this afternoon: after the awkward Diet Coke moment with the maid (I wish I knew her name, I don’t like referring to her as the maid) I drove down by the airport, to a beach I haven’t been yet. The tiny airplanes that take off literally fly right over this beach, the runway is not long at all and it ends on the sand, and they take flight just before the water, its fun to watch...see here:

I walked along the beach and then got in where there were a few other people swimming. I only went in about 3 feet deep, of course. After that I drove to the grocery store and got a few things. The europeans love their yogurt, there are so many different kinds and flavors. I bought some the other day that came in a little glass jar and has a cap, it’s perfect to mix paint in, so I bought two more today. I really wanted to buy some sort of skin cream to sooth the mosquito bites all over my ankles and feet, but since all the packaging is in French, I couldn’t tell what was what. At one point I picked up something that looked most like it could be skin cream, or hand cream and I was going over to the counter to ask someone who worked there if it was indeed skin lotion, and right before I got to the counter I noticed that it read, “douche”. Now since I don’t speak French, douche could mean skin-cream, or it could mean what I think it is. Anyway, I didn’t want to take the risk of being embarrassed so I put it back. I’ll look again tomorrow.
I walked along a different beach around sunset and there was a shallow area where I saw little fish. Here’s a small movie:

And here is a view from the porch of the sun setting tonight:

This is a graveyard by the beach. I guess the bodies are buried above ground in these boxes. Somehow, plastic flowers actually look good when they are on every grave:


I’ve been avoiding dousing myself with “OFF” mosquito spray because it’s like spraying yourself with tons of chemicals, but I think I have to face the music and start spraying. The Citronella candles only do so much. St. Barths is known for celebrities and all I know is that if I were Mariah Carey or someone that needed to look great for a living, especially the legs, I would avoid this island all together because the mosquito bites alone could make for an embarrassing string of photos in US Weekly.
I’m ending the evening with the greatness that is,”Sarah” by Fleetwood Mac that managed to find it’s way onto my French radio station. The quality is not great, but turn up your volume so you can hear this small movie, and have a good night:

Day five

This photo was here, it’s a stock photo, a place holder that came with iWeb, the software program I’m using to work on this blog. I thought I’d just leave this photo since this is what it basically looks like here in St. Barths anyway.

Day five
Alone for a week

Brought Maya to the airport again today, this time she got a flight. I will miss having her around. I drove back to the house about an hour ago and now I’m here for a week, alone, until Douglas Gordon arrives on Monday. This will be a nice experience, except night time may be a little spooky but we’ll see, tonight is the first night.
I’ll probably unpack my boxes, set up a table and start working either tonight or tomorrow, probably tomorrow, I think I’ll take this afternoon and evening to go to the grocery store and set up house. The stores are closed in the afternoon for a couple hours. I guess they take a break and go to the beach for a bit, a siesta, so I’ll have to wait a couple hours for them to open again. Shopping is odd because the packaging is all in French. I was buying a jar of spaghetti sauce yesterday and I couldn’t tell if meat was in the ingredients or not. I’ll probably eat a lot of cheese sandwiches while I’m here, which is fine by me, plus they have lot’s of cheese here.
I’m still scratching from all the mosquito bites, it’s awful. Maya got me a new, electrified swatter for a gift when she left. I got some new batteries and I’m ready for war. I’m getting used to the dragons. I just stomp my feet when I walk to give them fair warning to go and hide, which they don’t really do, they just run away a bit and turn back and stare. When I see them just off the porch on the rocks and leaves, I’m not scared of them. But if I happen upon one and get surprised, I think, what the fuck am I doing here, this is crazy. Actually, one of them walked over to the top of this rock a few feet from where I am sitting right now, on the porch, and when it got to the top of the rock, he or she placed its hands over the edge and sat there like a dog, watching me type. For a second i thought it was, well I don’t want to say cute but it seemed friendly, or content for the moment, watching me watch it. I can’t stand reptiles, but I’m doing ok with these for now. And again, if it were snakes, bye bye.
Here’s the crazy bird that hangs out here, I just took this movie of his chirps.....make sure you have your sound on and push play.....

I phoned Jonathan today who’s at work in Manhattan and the first thing he said was that Paris Hilton was on the front page of every newspaper since yesterday was day one for her being in jail. I found a radio here, turned it on. Most of the stations are French speaking and all I could make out from this particular station was the name ‘Paris Hilton’ peppered in between some fast speaking French. Jonathan and I used iChat the other night, with video, so we could see and talk to each other and the quality of the sound and the video on both ends was really impressive. He in Harlem and I in the Caribbean and it was very clear and it was really fun. Computers - the wave of the future.
It’s hot here and very sunny today. I haven’t ventured anywhere alone yet but I’ll probably go to the beach tomorrow morning to walk. You can’t exactly get up and walk along the roads because there are no sidewalks, the roads are narrow and people drive fast and reckless. It’s kind of fun, whipping around the turns, but there is no way you can go for a walk unless you go to the beach. There are no streetlights either, so it’s very dark at night. You can see all the stars that are possible to see, and the ocean if the moon is bright enough. I like standing on the porch and looking out at the road which is way down below to watch the cars drive up it. For some reason its fun. It could be because it’s the only thing that’s actually happening here...I mean as far as an actual event unfolding - involving humans. It’s kind of like a television show, but the only thing that happens are cars driving up a windy road at the base of a huge mountain. They come around a corner way at the bottom, and eventually vanish around a corner. It’s so far down that the cars are about the size of an M&M, no, smaller. It gets particularly exciting when two cars pass each other because the roads are narrow and rear view mirrors just miss hitting each other. You can see what I’m describing in the pictures link here. And yeah, in case you couldn’t tell, there’s not television in the house.
I just walked around the property to take some photos so you can see more of what the place is like. I also took some nice photos of the moon last night, click here to see the new pictures.
That’s it for now. Oh, one more things, this is kind of blowing my mind....

This video was posted on YouTube and one person wrote in the comment area, “What happens if you punch it in the face”, which I thought was totally funny. I wrote a comment too; “I’d like to see a baby that acts like a robot”.

Day Four

Cancelled flight



Woke this morning, chatted with Maya and then we put her bags in the car and went off to the tiny airport with the tiny planes where we found out the tiny airline was on strike. The tiny airline consists of about five people, including the person working the desk. So, she’s here for another day, which is nice, she can show me a new beach today. Here’s a picture of one of the pilots of the tiny planes, picking up his sock, bored, on strike, while commuters stand around, annoyed that they can’t get off the island:
and here is Maya, realizing she’s staying another night:
Tomorrow will be my first day alone in the house and I can finally set up my studio area and unpack my box of supplies and start working. I suppose I could start today, but there is also a maid coming to clean the house after the last artists were here, so I’m just going to wait until tomorrow and start. My legs are completely fucked up from the mosquito bites. I haven’t ventured into the grocery store or pharmacy yet where I hope to find some sort of lotion to fix the scratching. So I guess this is where the blog starts to get boring, as I’m detailing every moment, including the need for lotion on my legs. Nice.
One of the dragons just walked over onto the porch. They aren’t afraid of me and I guess I’m getting a little used to it, as long as they stay off the porch. I’ll write more later tonight, hopefully something more interesting, but for now, here is a small movie of one of the crazy birds that splashes around in the bird bath here on the porch, and below that is a picture of said dragon:

stay off the porch, fucker.

Day Three

The Ocean



Woke today and we brought Stina and Havard to the airport as they are flying back to NYC today, where they also live. That leaves just me and Maya in the house and then Maya leaves tomorrow, back to LA where she is from. So as of tomorrow, I am home alone in the whole place until the next artist, Douglas Gordon arrives at the end of the week. I wonder what it will be like here, alone. I’m not really into the large lizards, I call them dragons, that hover around and rustle about in the leaves, they are harmless but I don’t like reptiles. I don’t think I’ll be going up to the pool much by myself, because to get there you have to walk up a path with all kinds of crazy plants and rocks around it, and that’s where the dragons hang out. I’ve also seen two in the driveway, I think they like the hot sun. If it were snakes, I would leave the residency and go home. The place is really beautiful, but it is very much tied to the beautiful landscape that surrounds it and that includes the dragons. There are some beautiful humming birds floating around the flowers that are all about. I like those. Then there are other birds that I’ve never seen before, some make loud noises and seem sort of aggressive, not to me, but to the other birds around the place.
After dropoing Havard and Stina at the airport, Martina and Maya and I went to this beautiful beach and had a drink in the sand. I had a piña colada. We’re going to meet in another hour to go to a beach I haven’t seen yet, and we’re going to swim, and I can’t wait. Swimming her is so amazing, the water is warm and clear, and I’m glad Martina said she will swim with me, so I have a partner. I don’t think there are big sharks here (I googled it before I left) but Havard said he saw a small one while he was snorkeling last week. The water is so clear that I think you’d see one if it was coming at you anyway. I’m going to go get ready for the beach and will write more tonight on how it was.
9:33PM
Just returned to the house. Went to the beach with Maya and Martina, a new beach I haven’t seen, went in the water for a bit, so amazing. It’s dark now. There are no street lights on the island, just stars at night, and whatever lights we turn on in the house, and citronella candles to ward off mosquitos. Tomorrow will be my first day alone here as we drop off Maya at the airport. I’m tired, long day in the sun. Looking forward to tomorrow when I get set up my work area and start working. The past two days have been full of socializing, tomorrow it’s just me, and the island. I hope I don’t get too spooked at night, we shall see. Good night.

Day two

Mosquitos and lizards



That’s what’s here, mosquitos and lizards, beautiful plants, humming birds, turquois colored ocean. Oh, and a rat that got into the kitchen last night, that Havard, one of the artists that is here, killed with a trap. More on that later.
It’s 6:04PM in St. Barth’s and I’m sitting out on the porch at the house where I’ll be staying for the next 28 days that are left in my artist residency. Across from me is Maya Schindler, another one of the artist who is ending her residency here. She has been here for almost a month and is from Los Angles, where she is returning on Monday. We hit it off and have been hanging out today, she showed me around a couple of the beaches and the ins and outs of staying here. She had her opening in the gallery last night. I arrived here yesterday around 2:00PM. Flew into St. Marteen on the American Airline flight. From St. Marteen I had to get on a VERY tiny airplane to hop over to St. Barths. The plane sat six people, including the pilot and had two, small propellors. As we walked out to the plane, I had heard that the plane would be small and some people prefer taking a boat, so I was a little prepared, but once I saw how small it was, I got anxious. After getting into the plane, we sat there for about five minutes while they tossed our luggage into a small space behind out seats, and at that point, I became very claustrophobic, which I was not expecting at all. The real kind of claustrophobia - where I almost had to ask if I could get out and stand outside for a bit, calm down, and then get back in. It was such a strange feeling, the kind you have no control over, I don’t think I’ve felt that before. Not wanting to create a spectacle and inconvenience others sitting near me, I calmed myself down and before I knew it we were in the air. Oddly enough I felt better once we were off the ground where I had no chance to get out of the plane and cause a stir.
Landed in St. Barth about fifteen minutes later, a real quick, fast and hard landing, which I had read about on the internet, the famed St. Barth runway experience. Got out of the plane and met Martina Aschbacher, the woman who is in charge of running the residency. Martina is a tall, thin, blonde, blue eyed beautiful woman from Austria. She was very welcoming. We had exchanged many emails over the past six months in preparation of me coming here but this was the first time we had met in person. We picked up my one bag, went to a car rental place in the small building that was the airport where Martina put me into a tiny car which I used to follow her up some windy roads, through a gate that opened onto the driveway which was flanked by tons of beautiful, overgrown plants to the house of the residency, where I am now.
First impressions.....I must admit I was a little freaked out once we finally got to the house. It is so open, quiet and relaxed, having come from New York City that morning I was fully unprepared to take it down a notch and relax. Martina showed me the room I would be staying in until Monday at which point I’ll be moving downstairs to the apartment and studio where I’ll be sleeping and working for the remainder of my time here. It’s a big, sprawling home, mostly made of porches. Everything is connected to and involves the OUTSIDE where plants, odd looking birds, gekko’s and large lizards live (more on the lizards later).
The porch over looks a sprawling valley and beyond that, the vast ocean where the sun sets. Up a small staircase overgrown with more plants is another large deck and a swimming pool lined with deep blue tiles. Recently, on uTube, I was watching a documentary on Charles Manson and this house reminds me of the serene and beautiful home where the Sharon Tate murder took place, long ago in 1969 in a far away place, California.
Havard Homstvedt is another artist here at the moment. He and his girlfriend, Stina, both from Norway, are in the apartment downstairs, they leave tomorrow. I met them when I first got here. Nice people and I really like Havard’s paintings. Martina introduced me - Stina in a hammock reading a book and Havard swatting mosquitos with what appeared to be a yellow tennis racquet, but was actually an electrified mosquito swatter, it fries and zaps them as you wave the raquet into the air, catching the bloodsuckers in the metal strings. I’ve only been here a little more than 24 hours and I’ve been carrying one of these racquets everywhere I go. It not only kills the pests, it’s actually fun. They really make a loud zapping noise when you get them. I don’t feel bad about it because they are everywhere and my legs already have bites. Not a big deal though, part of the experience here.
Last night after going to the gallery for Maya’s opening, the five of us, Maya, Havard, Stina, Martina and myself, had a nice dinner at a restaurant on the beach. When we got home I closed the front door to the house, which Maya told me has been open since she got here, because it creates a nice breeze through the house, and she’s right. We got home around 1:30AM and I shut the door after everyone had gone to bed. With it’s 70’s style wood work and large, brass doorknob, thoughts of Manson and Squeaky Fromme paying a visit entered my head.
Today was the first day I got in the ocean. It really is clear, warm, and beautiful. Maya showed me two beaches, I went in both times. I am too afraid to swim alone, so if there was someone else in the water, a stranger, I sort of ease my way into the waves and hover close enough to them where I feel like I’m not alone, but far enough away so they don’t think I’m approaching them to start a conversation.

Day one

Leaving the city



Today is the first day that I will be in St. Barthelemy, the beginning of what will be exactly 29 days on the island. I am going to take part in an artist residency named, Me.di.ium, where I will have a studio to work, a place to live and show at the end of my stay, in their gallery. My stay will be just shy of a month because Jonathan and I have tickets to go see Stevie Nicks on July 1st. At the moment I’m on an American Airlines flight on my way there. I left Harlem this morning at 5:00AM, which isn’t too bad because I splurged on car service instead of the subway which I usually take to the airport. It was nice being in a car, and not underground...nice to see the city in the morning, still dark enough to see the lights on the Chrysler building before they turn them off.
Over the past week or so, I bragged to friends that I was going to start a BLOG to record my goings-ons while away on this trip, mostly to share photographs, photos are everything. I’ve been excited to start the writing but it has been a little difficult starting for several reasons that I’ll get into as I go along. I’m new to BLOGs, I’ve never read one and I’ve never created one. I don’t understand who has time to read someone else’s blather and I don’t know who would want to read mine. There must be something to BLOGS though, since they are everywhere and are effecting things like elections and politics. The way I’m looking at this BLOG is that it’s mostly a diary for my own sake. I though it would be a fun project to do while I’m away from New York in St. Barth for exactly 29 days....a kind of tether connecting me back to the mainland, and something to construct my time, because god knows I don’t know what to do with unstructured time, even if it is on a beautiful, Carribean island - although maybe that will change and I’ll become a complete beach-bumb alcoholic for the entire month. I doubt it, but I’m open to the possibility.
The other idea I had, or an excuse I was thinking about using to start a blog, was to write a blog about blogs. You know, the phenomenon of thousands of voices on the internet, exchanging ideas and thoughts, but then I thought, there probably already is a blog about blogs so then I thought, what about a blog about blogs that are about blogs and blogging, like a meta meta blog, by then I thought, maybe I should just get over it and just start writing. Plus, that meta meta blog idea I’m sure must exist already, and to be honest, my therapist came up with that idea, not me.
My ex boyfriend, Justin is a really impressive keeper of a diary. I’ve seen them (although I’ve never read one, I swear), volumes and volumes of notebooks, all handwritten in odd, tiny, left handed script, over year and years. I was always impressed by his diary upkeep and he is also an inspiration to start this diary/blog. I wonder what Justin will actually do with all that writing. If no one reads your writing/diary, why does one spend the time? It’s theraputic? It’s a record of time and events? I suppose there are lot’s of reasons.
Anyway, I could think about this for a long time, but instead, I should just start....but before I do, I have to remind myself that I have some thoughts I’d like to share about the winner of the 80th National Spelling Bee that Jonathan and I watched on television last night....this kid was amazing, and an inspiration. I’ll write about him later, but I figured in the free-wheeling spirit of BLOGGING, I’m allowed to interrupt myself here and there and jump off topic.
Since I’m on the plane somewhere over the Atlantic and haven’t actually landed in St Barth yet, this seems like the perfect place to begin, in the netherworld betwixt North America and a tiny island, that I think, is just above South America. Actually, before St. Barth we land in St. Marteen at which point I have to switch to a tiny plane for the 15 minute jump over to St. Barth, which supposedly features a harrowing landing that I’ve read about on the internet.
As I sit here on this American Airlines plane, I have to say a few things about this airline, or at least this flight. It sucks. It’s only a four hour flight, but compared to Jet Blue, which is the airline I’ve use most, flying back and forth to California, this Airline is the worst, and here are a few reasons why:
They charge you for everything. For instance, headsets are $2 and on Jet Blue they are free. I don’t even know why you would want the lame two dollar head set they offer anyway, since there are not TV’s in the seats, like on Jet Blue, for you to watch. They still have those crappy, ‘community’ TV’s stuck on the ceiling, that plays only one movie that is clearly coming from some VCR in the belly of the plane, because it has those little glitches that you don’t see anymore on digital television or DVD’s. Another reason American Airlines is lame: they charge for their snacks and if you want to ‘upgrade’ from tap water to a bottle of ‘spring water’ they charge you, where as other airlines the water is free flowing, as it should be. I guess all in all those aren’t really dramatic reasons to dislike this airline, but you know, it’s the little things. To be fair, there are a couple other things that are not the Airlines’ fault that make this particular flight slightly annoying, such as the woman in front of me who just had to push her seat all the way back. I have long legs, or at least they seem long when I’m in a plane. Also, there is a couple sitting next to me that are a litle nutty. They are going on vacation, or so I’ve gleaned from their ‘two bloody mary’s each’ buzz they’ve got going. I’m on the aisle seat, ALWAYS on the aisle seat, (who needs to be trapped by the window?) and I guess they are pretty harmless, but there’s something about them that is a little annoying, maybe it’s the louder than necessary talking, or the shoes they keep taking off and on.
Ok, we are getting ready to land, I have to put my computer away for now and will continue later. I’ve never been to the Carribean.