On a Friday afternoon in February, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals spent time outside of San Diego recording stripped down versions of songs from their new album. “Paris” is the second in a series of them.
Post it notes continue to work their way into different parts of our lives. Their not so stickiness encourages us to use them in all kinds of unexpected ways. Their uniformity is another excellent attribute. Even the straight-lined challenged can line post-its up in a grid. Now that we aren’t confined to the Post-it yellow the possibilities are multiplied — by the number of new colors added.
I was working on an ad for the segd conference + expo which will be in Montréal in 2011. It made me think of this wonderful public art. On our visit there a few years back we discovered the lipstick forest. Both Margaret and I wandered through the trees and played a bit of hide and seek. It is brilliant!
It has become a science fiction dream to me. I cannot say I ever thought I would see and feel these temperatures. These temperatures are those of my visits to the desert and hiking the canyons of New Mexico. I imagine the scrub bushes and the dry runoff streams. I taste the red dust on my lips. Then I am jolted back to reality. My sense of place is askew. Our planet is so confused. It’s 104°.
Neither my father nor my mother knew
the names of the trees
where I was born
what is that
I asked and my
father and mother did not
hear they did not look where I pointed
surfaces of furniture held
the attention of their fingers
and across the room they could watch
walls they had forgotten
where there were no questions
no voices and no shade
Were there trees
where they were children
where I had not been
were there trees in those places
where my father and my mother were born
and in that time did