The Year of Six Seasons
September 7-28, 2024
ECA Gallery, Easthampton MA
How we live in time–we live in the past and we live in the present at the same time. Because–not in any big way, I don't mean in a nostalgic way... It’s much easier to write chronologically. But if we want to write how we think and how we feel, then we have to find a way to honor that.
-Deborah Levy in conversation at Litteraturhuset, Oslo, Norway, 2021
I saw a shadow touch a shadow’s hand
-Paul Simon, Bleeker Street, 1964
Woke up at 9:30 and skyped with J who couldn’t fall asleep. He fell asleep, and I noticed when I moved my camera towards the light in my bedroom, the light on his face in New York became brighter. Then Skype cut off so I made breakfast and decided not to shower.
—
Strange dreams. Never arriving at my destination, or, as soon as I did, having to leave.
And it’s not so much being absent-minded as it is being elsewhere-minded.
The colors at this time of morning are rich. The gray sky is blue from the darkness of winter, the remaining leaves seem particularly yellow in this blue wash, and the lights coming from the classrooms in the school next door are warm and glowing.
Anyways, I woke up before sunrise which feels good (granted sunrise is after 8). The sky is one of my favorite blues right now.
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I have to go do things, but a quick note on the light in my room right now. This shiny gray, shiny on the spotlight closest to the window, and wooly shortly thereafter.
I woke up early and with a lot of energy today. Its snowing constantly here. I got lost in the woods yesterday. Too much to write right now.
There are still leaves on the trees here, but now almost at the point where the leaves look silly, like as if the trees are wearing one sock or a scarf and nothing else. Time is moving so quickly. September seems like last year, but the future seems always encroaching.
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A always says that rambling is a way in.
It’s about life being in the middle of life. Maybe it’s not about anything exactly. It’s about life getting interrupted by living. 
A shadowy figure vs a shadow
The morning light glows on me when I lay closest to the window. If I roll over to the far side of the bed, I’m in darkness by comparison.
It’s new years morning, and I’m on an island of soft mountains and small forests. When I walk along the roads I feel exposed, like I’m standing on the forehead of Earth.
Has it started snowing there yet? It snowed here yesterday for the first time, and some has stuck in the schoolyard outside of my window, but nowhere else, it seems.
I am sitting in a park with one of the babies I take care of. She’s sleeping. A field mouse is chasing baby ducks, and there was a heron perched on the railing. I took a photo to show you:
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I'm back home now which is finally covered in snow
I'm in bed, the sun is shining strongly on my face. My room has two south-facing windows, and the sun rotates through the whole room throughout the day.
In a few days I'm going up north. If the weather is clear we might see the northern lights, but I've heard there are big storms now, with waves up to 70 feet.
I am so long-winded, I'm sorry, I hope you don't mind this long email.
—
It's nearly dawn here, the sky is a dusty light blue. It is beautiful, but I am not usually awake at this time: there's a mosquito in my room who has been hunting me all night.
