38 The End

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 15:01:00 +0000

This project is now over.

All of the work has sold.

If you would like to see the project in it's entirety; please check it out here.

You can view my other work here.

He jumped in with both feet.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 19:54:00 +0000

has sold.

//

Thank you for looking.

//

This was the last *38* available.

He jumped in with both feet.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 16:07:00 +0000

21 x 33 cm
Found color photograph (thanks to S.L. for dumpster diving on my behalf), pink thread, watercolors
Please Note: The jumping man is hanging off the end of the page.

//

Today marks the end of the *38* Project.
I have come to feel that if nothing else, every Thursday has been defined in one way or another by this project.

I could say that I am looking forward to not doing this anymore - but that would actually only be a half truth.
But in some ways I could say that I am ready for something else - and yes, actually, that would be mostly accurate.
I guess.

This reminds me of saying goodbye to a good friend or a family member; I always well up, my throat gets tight and I feel terribly nervous and anxious. Just recently I was in New York saying goodbye to J.H. and E.G. at the shuttle bus stop for Newark Airport. I could feel the tears coming as I gave them last hugs. When I was on the bus, the tears started rolling down my cheeks. I guess I am really sentimental and emotional.

This time around it feels like I am saying goodbye to a part of myself.

//

A great many thanks to all who supported me during this project.

//

Happy Birthday to some of my Gemini friends:
O.B. (9th), G.G. (10th), S.T. (11th), E.G. (a.k.a. Lady Boss) (13th), J.P. and S.S. (14th), and finally S.C. (15th)

Last Post

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 13:42:00 +0000

The last post will be today - but later than the usual 5pm (Berlin time) posting time.

//

Check back around 7pm.

Thanks!

When the time in my life was so good.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 15:54:00 +0000

has sold.

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Next week will be the last *38*.

When the time in my life was so good.*

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 13:09:00 +0000

Found black and white photograph*, watercolors, graphite, various colors of thread
(The date on the photograph is September 30, 1938. The letter on the girl's (to the right) shirt has an 'A' on it.)

Detail.

//

Last night I was at a BBQ at my friend S.'s flat. She told me that her 6 1/5 year old daughter, L., had composed a song the day before and if I was lucky she might sing it for me. I got lucky, she whisper/sang it in my ear. *The title of the song was 'When the time in my life was so good.'. I kept wondering how a 6 year old came up with a title like that, (and I am actually still wondering). I started to think about when the time in my life was so good. It actually isn't something that I think about that often. Thinking about that statement as is, suggests that the times in my life are not that good now. But I would have to say that this is not true.

This *38* is the second to the last one, which means my birthday is coming up, which means almost a year has passed (!) (and this project is almost over), which means I am starting to take inventory of all that I have (and haven't done); which is usually what I do around this time of year. But all that said, I think I can safely say that the good times in my life are not over.
There are always things to look forward to; like climbing some mountains in the Swiss Alps and staying the night in one of those little huts, or drinking a mint tea in Istanbul with my abbreviated name sake: A.V.G. or skinny dipping in the Baltic Sea with A., or having dinner with my family in Nice, or the residency I am going to in Niort next month, or actually something much more simple like having a beer in a beer garden later today with some friends, here in Berlin.

Actually it would be fair to say that the time in my life is good now.

//

See you next week for the very last *38*.

//

P.S. Happy Birthday and big hugs to my fellow Geminis this week:
L.H. (3rd), J.G. (3rd), K.T. (5th), and A.W. (8th)

Paolo made her sick.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 29 May 2008 16:35:00 +0000

has sold.

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There are 2 more *38" postings left.

Paolo made her sick.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 29 May 2008 13:13:00 +0000

22.5 x 30.5 cm
Postcard, watercolors, graphite, yellow thread

Morning sickness, also called nausea, or pregnancy sickness, affects between 50 and 95 percent of all pregnant women as well as some women who use hormonal contraception or hormone replacement therapy.

//

A very close friend of mine, S., found out she was pregnant right before she and her partner moved to Florence, Italy earlier this year, for the whole year. Fortunately, I have seen her a few times and of course heard about her pregnancy. Needlesstosay she has had morning sickness that hasn't just lasted through the mornings...
During our most recent visit together, she told me about her attempts to "enjoy" Florence even though she was feeling badly, not to mention hormonal and very nauseated most of the time.

S. told me that she decided to try to be a little more positive about being in Italy. After all it is Florence, she thought. Unfortunately due to her pregnancy she can't stand the sight of, or the smell of Italian food. (Which she informed me is still true (!) even now!) That alone poses a big problem in a country that is not only known for it's food, but also very proud of it's food.
Aside from this (relatively minor) problem, which causes her to eat at fast food chains more often than she is willing to admit, she decided to go to the famous Uffizi Gallery one afternoon - to try and remember how great it is to be in Florence. The way she told me the story was that she was just minding her own business when she came across some paintings by Paolo Uccello (1397 – 1475). There she was suddenly, standing in front of 'The Battle of St. Romano':

She found herself on the verge of throwing up as she looked at what she called a "disgusting use of pastel colors throughout the painting"! She said she had to sit down and concentrate on not vomiting all over herself as she continued being repulsed by what she saw. She told me later; "Why would anyone want to paint a horse blue? - That is just disgusting!".

//

Dedicated to S.B.

The Zig-Zag Run

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 22 May 2008 15:31:00 +0000

has sold.

Thanks for looking.

//

Please note: This project will end on June 12th.

The Zig-Zag Run

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 22 May 2008 10:29:00 +0000

22 x 29 cm
Found color photographs, graphite, a photo corner, found paper from a photo album

A zigzag is a pattern made up of small corners at variable angles, though constant within the zigzag, tracing a path between two parallel lines; it can be described as both jagged and fairly regular.

//

It was about 1982, or maybe even 1983, (I was 12 or 13) my best friend J.H.* and I were in her mother's boyfriend, L.'s truck on the way to Rusty's Pizza Parlor on Milpas Street to pick up some pizza. We were really close to Rusty's, and as we were stopped at a stoplight L.'s truck jolted forward - someone had rammed us from behind. L. screams, 'It's C. (his wife)!'. J.H. and I looked at each other in a panic, suddenly it felt like we were in a movie.
His English wasn't that good (he is Mexican) and he said, 'OK hijos (boys) we go near Rusty's, I drop you off at the corner and then I try to loose her.' We nodded breathlessly and scared beyond belief. L. handed J.H. a wad of money and pulled over to the side of the road. As we were jumping out of the car J.H. screamed at me, 'We have to run in a zig-zag in case she has a gun and tries to shoot at us'. It made perfect sense. We started running in a zig-zag to the front door of Rusty's. We made it inside, hyperventilating, feeling really relieved to have escaped all of the flying bullets that we didn't see or hear except for those in our head.
As we were waiting in line to pick up our order, a man tapped J.H. on the shoulder and said 'I think you dropped something'. J.H. looked down and saw a $100 bill on the ground, the money L. had given her for the pizza. She grabbed it.
We finally got the pizza and L. was waiting for us out in the parking lot. We ran to the truck and he told us he had lost her. We felt so lucky to have made it out alive.

(* J.H. is the same person who taught me how to drive. See this *38*.)

Highway 101

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 15 May 2008 16:38:00 +0000

has sold.

//

Next Thursday will be one of the last 4 available.
(The countdown has begun.)

Highway 101

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 15 May 2008 11:32:00 +0000

19 x 22.25 cm
Found black and white photograph, color xerox, highway image cut out from Revista de Informacion Tecnica (Madrid, 1968), (the magazine was found at a flea market in Madrid), found paper, graphite and archival artist tape

//

Even though I didn't personally have the chance to drive down Highway 101 while I was in California recently - I was still reminded of the beauty on that drive. Everyone who comes to California for the first time always wants to drive down Highway 1 -and yes indeed, that is a spectacular drive, but not time efficient if you are driving between San Francisco and Santa Barbara regularly. Highway 101 is part coastal and part inland and therefore it isn't known for it's consistent beauty.

One of my most memorable trips down 101 was a couple of years ago. It was a warmish evening. I rented a car in San Francisco and had planned on driving down to Santa Barbara. It is between a 5 and 6 hour drive (325 miles or 532 km) - depending on how many stops you make, and of course how much you speed. Even though I have done this drive countless times alone, I have never enjoyed it.

Typical view during the inland portion of the drive down Highway 101.

I went to pick up my rental, a compact, which is what I reserved. I hate how the rental agency thinks they are doing you a favor and they "upgrade" you even if you don't want the upgrade. This is what happened - sort of. The clerk told me it would be a few minutes before they brought the car around to the front of the building. I was waiting and waiting - minutes turned into a quarter of an hour. Annoyed I went back inside, asking where my car was. The clerk said that it was waiting for me. I said I didn't see a car. He came out and said, "Oh yes here it is.". I stared at him blankly because parked in front of me was a white convertible (I can't remember exactly, but it was something like a Mitsubishi Spyder or a Chrysler Sebring). "No", I said, "This isn't the car I reserved.". He said "That's all we have. I thought you might not mind the upgrade.". He smiled, gave me the keys and walked off. So there I was, with a convertible. I had planned to leave town right then but instead called my friend M.K., picked her up from work and we drove around town with the top down, drinking smoothies while enjoying the city and the sunset.

A few hours later, after I had stolen my sister's big puffy winter hat*, I left town and you better believe the top was down, the heat was turned up and the radio was blasting as I drove down 101 to Santa Barbara. I think it was the first (and the last) time I didn't mind that drive.

//

*[Yes, I confess R. - I stole your hat.]

May Gray

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 08 May 2008 18:34:00 +0000

has sold.

//

Thanks for looking.

(And by the way - it's still foggy over here in S.B.!)

May Gray

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 08 May 2008 06:15:00 +0000

8.5" x 10" (approximately)
Pages from Weather (Life Science Library, 1965) and Matter (Life Science Library, 1963), hot pink enamel hobby spray paint

Note about the work: The balloon shape is not connected to the main body of the work - therefore it is "floating" off the edge.

//

I have been thinking about the weather a lot lately. I grew up in Santa Barbara, California. It's a place where the sun shines 300 days a year, the average high temperature is 74 degrees fahrenheit (23 degrees celsius) - with an average of 15" (96.77 centimeters) of rain a year. Some say it is paradise. It's hard to believe that I live in Berlin sometimes knowing those weather statistics....

I happen to be here in Santa Barbara this week and low and behold - the weather ain't what I just described - BECAUSE (as I had forgotten) every May and June there is "May Gray" or "June Gloom": fog in the morning and then it (eventually) burns off to reveal a bluer than blue sky in the afternoon. Although at the moment it hasn't been burning off.

So what about weather prediction? Weather balloons and radiosondes are fascinating. The radiosonde hangs from a weather balloon and is used to diagnose weather conditions by measuring atmospheric pressure, temperature, and humidity. About 800 locations around the globe do routine weather balloon releases (!) - twice daily, usually at 0000 GMT and 1200 GMT. Here in May Gray two men are about to send off a weather balloon. It seems relatively archaic (although I am sure it isn't) that a balloon is sent into the sky and the atmosphere is measured but this radiosonde contraption. Surely it is high tech but we all know that weather prediction isn't necessarily something you can depend on.

All that said, I have heard the weather in Berlin is fabulous at the moment. Hopefully it will still be like that when I return!

Birdheart

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Fri, 02 May 2008 04:31:00 +0000

has sold.

//

Thanks for looking.

Birdheart

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 01 May 2008 14:26:00 +0000

21 x 28 cm
Found black & white photograph, orange thread, found bird picture from a bird book

//

Ever since I was a child we had parrots as our family pets. The most wonderful parrot we ever had was Sammy. Initially named Samuel Gertler, but then, later on we found out Samuel was actually Samantha. (That's another story though.)
She was a Yellow - Napped Amazon.

She was the best parrot ever.
We got her when I was 11 years old, and she was 3 months old. After 3 days she already said her first word - "hello". It was out of control from there on out. Yellow Napes are the best talkers along side African Greys. Amazons have the intellect of a 2 year old child - and that is no joke. Not only could she speak incredibly well, but she could also word associate with various situations. If my mom was coming home and she could hear my mom's car - she would say "Hi Mom". If it was my dad's car, then the obvious (of course) "Hi Dad". It was incredible. I taught her to turn her head, look up in the sky and say "What's the birdie doing up there?". That was one phrase of many, many other phrases that she could say. Here is a partial list of her vocabulary:

Hi baby
Whatcha you doing?
How are you?
Here kitty kitty
My friend
My baby
Renee (my sister's name)
Lisa (my mom's name)
April
Como se llama?
I hate you
You stupid idiot

and the best word of all:
birdheart (she made that one up on her own)

The list goes on...and on...and on...

So this work is an homage to Sam.
She was remarkable.

I am welling up just thinking about her even though she passed away about 5 years ago (we had her for 23 years), and she has been sorely missed.

On the edge.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 13:32:00 +0000

has sold.

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Thanks for looking.

Happy Spring.

On the edge.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 00:36:00 +0000

21 x 29.7 cm
Found magazine clipping (thanks to K.T.), watercolors, graphite, blue thread
Note: The lines are sewn thread.

Sorry for the early post!

//

I am just about to leave town (in 6 hours to be exact) for 2 weeks.
Almost everything is packed except this computer.
Whenever I am about to travel overseas I always feel a bit on the edge.
Trying to find composure where and however I can.

Traveling is unnerving and terribly strenuous in general but especially on your own.
I used to live to travel - that was a long time ago.
I used to only want to be able to go places.
I remember being at the airport when I was a kid and a special excitement would come over me - I loved it.

There are of course two parts to this topic - the travels that one experiences to get somewhere and then the moment when one arrives at that destination. I think I much prefer the moment of arrival rather than the act of doing the traveling.
I am facing a long journey ahead.
But once I get there....I know how sweet it will be.

So much to say.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 16:41:00 +0000

has sold.
Thanks for looking.

//

Please make a note:
Next week I will be uploading the *38* on Wednesday (April 23) night because I am leaving town early on Thursday (April 24) morning.

So much to say.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 09:59:00 +0000

21 x 29 cm
Found photographs - both black & white and color, (thanks to S.L. for dumpster-diving in CPH on my behalf!), archival tape

//

I have always been a communicator (after all, it is the main description of my star sign!). Even when I was a kid I would "hang on" (my father's words, not mine) the phone for hours. My parents always wondered what I was talking about. Now I can't remember... Although I am sure it was all very important at the time.

Communication is defined as a process by which we assign and convey meaning in an attempt to create shared understanding. The truth is, communication exists in so many various ways. As it is today - we are able to talk on the phone at any given time (and in Europe at least - almost in any given place), we can email, instant message both on the computer and on a cell phone, not to mention video conference calling (which I unabashedly love doing with my family - ok, admittedly with some friends too!) are all possible. There is undoubtedly a power connected to communication. I am fascinated by the various forms that are at our disposal...but that said, I think it is clear that a big question remains - whatever happened to the art of letter writing? Which of course is, in many ways, the most classic form of communication. Has it been lost forever? Undeniably it used to be all there was. Can you imagine - waiting for correspondence - for weeks, maybe even months sometimes?!

The best series of letters I ever had the chance to read (and I read them in their original form at the Marlene Dietrich archive here in Berlin for A.U.'s project) was the exchange between Joe Carstairs and her lover Marlene Dietrich. One letter has stayed in my mind: Carstairs was flying to her island in the Bahamas, Whale Cay, while she wrote a fabulous love letter to Dietrich in the air...quite the romantic letter...using the sky as a metaphor to describe her passion for Dietrich.

There is something to be said for hand-written text, the way an envelope looks, the postage that is chosen - these decisions don't have any weight any more - as that certain sensibility is definitely lost. Even a few days ago I was reading a text message from someone and wishing I could read it in their handwriting! Nevertheless we have of course gained so much in the meantime....haven't we?

Lines on her face. (#2)

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 15:14:00 +0000

has sold.

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Thanks 4 looking!

Lines on her face. (#2)

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 13:09:00 +0000

20.5 x 22 cm
Cover image from a SAP catalogue (advertising a fair on business and technology), archival tape, thread
Note about this image: there are 38 lines on her face - and that happened by chance. (honest)

//

..."Thank God for that face-lift. I was against it but I was wrong. Dead wrong. I got to admit it. That guy did a wonderful job. Thank God our Dawn doesn't look anymore like all that she went through."
"He did do a great job," the Swede said. "Erased all that suffereing. He gave her back her face." No longer does she have to look in the mirror at the record of her misery. It had been a brilliant stroke: she had got the thing out directly in front of her.
"But she's waiting. I see it, Seymour. A mother sees such things. Maybe you erase the suffering from the face, but you can't remove the memory inside. Under that face, the poor thing is waiting."

p. 298, American Pastoral, Philip Roth

//

There is a huge industry - as most of us know - in the elimination of wrinkles.
Anti-aging creams. Botox. Anti-wrinkle creams. Laser resurfacing. Injectable skin fillers. The list goes on.
Youth 4evr. Smooth, taut skin. Purity. Freshness.

As I have been told - fabric has a memory of it's folds. If you try to refold something after it has been folded in a particular position over a long period of time - it can't be refolded. The fabric "remembers" the initial fold.
Our face does the same thing - our repeated facial gestures fold our skin in a certain position causing those wrinkles to appear. (Sure there are other reasons for the cause of wrinkles: worry, smoking, a thinness in the surface of our skin, and so on and so forth). So one could deduce, as Mr. Roth wrote so eloquently, that quite possibly wrinkles hold our memories.

In the late 80's my mom talked about getting a face lift. I remember thinking about what a bad idea that was. Mostly because of how much a face is physically shifted and changed. I kept thinking how my mom just wouldn't look like my mom anymore, selfish reason for not supporting her desire - true. Granted we were in California - land of the freshly young and beautiful.
I am quite happy she never got one. Now - years later, I am faced with my own wrinkles. Just the other night at dinner L. told L.P. and I how much he liked our 'crow's feet' (what a horrible name to describe these lines!). He said he wished he had some like us. We both crinkled our noses...
Well, I will just have to try to be content that I have my fair share of crow's feet and I should, I guess, think of all of those memories those lines are storing.

Light my fire.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 15:41:00 +0000

has sold.

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See you next week.

Light my fire.

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 12:20:00 +0000

21.5 x 27 cm
Found photograph, tape and found paper from a book cover

Note about image: The bluish edge on the right side of the
image is the scanner bed.
The photographic image hangs over the edge of the paper.

//

Oh, smoking...

This is one topic that really gets people riled up. As of January 1st, smoking is no longer legal in bars and restaurants in Germany and France. The two last strong holds in Europe who have attempted to refute this law. It has cramped a lot of people's style here in Europe - to say the least. It is true that Europe has been synonymous with a certain sort of smokey appeal - at least for Americans - for a good long while. On the one hand, I am quite relieved that the law has passed and people are more or less abiding ... and I do mean more or less.

But, then there is Marlene Dietrich and her cigar - in one of my favorite movies of all time, A Touch of Evil (1958), by Orson Wells.

All of that said, I found the image for today's collage in a photo album which was dedicated to a wedding reception. This image alone makes me love the smokey allure I mentioned above. There can be a seductive element to smoking, of course, and I do think this image captures that feeling.

Album cover (gotta love it)

//

A few years ago I was living with a young Irish lass here in Berlin and one night she was getting ready to go out on the town with her friends. I think she was 23 at the time. Her skirt was as big as a postage stamp - I really felt like her (much) older sister when I asked her if she was comfortable in her outfit (because I wouldn't have been)..."oh yes", she nodded her head coyly and smiled at me. I had to laugh. She then went on to tell me about her favorite part of the evening...when she would go out of the club "to get some fresh air" and have a smoke. I said, "Wait you don't smoke!". She replied, "oh I know, but this is the sure way to meet boys." She went on to say that she would have cigarettes but make sure not to have a lighter. While outside, she would find the most attractive looking boy possible, stand near him, and put a cigarette between her lips and start searching in her (microscopic) hand-bag for a lighter (which of course she knew she didn't have). Invariably, the young man would offer her a light which would also offer her a chance to have a flirt. I loved her unabashed method.
I am sure it all had something to do with the size of her skirt...

287 Z-1766

noreply@blogger.com (AVG) — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 18:15:00 +0000

This work has sold.

But thanks for looking.