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Wendy Newton
Washington Heights, New York City

two girls

the critical moment of my son's transformation into a full-fledged teenager has exploded suddenly into my field of awareness. i can't say without warning, but who really heeds warnings? hindsight is everything. at this moment of emotional stuckness i am longing to turn over the parenting to others potentially more capable than i, and i am connecting powerfully with the nostalgia of remembered childhood, his and my own, as if this would somehow sooth the loss of the child who has morphed into someone who i don't altogether understand and with whom i feel only the most tenuous connection. i am struggling with the concept of unconditional love and experiencing the challenge of remaining spacious enough to listen to the whole story.

Peter Ferko
Washington Heights, New York City

fritzie and the summer breeze

I listen to a cover of a David Bowie song on an internet stream of a radio station I used to listen to when I lived in L.A. as I work on a project that is a reincarnation of a previous project called Now:Here:This, which was a reincarnation of a project called 5 Things, on a day when I practiced the same meditation with my teacher for the third time this week after riding the subway reading a book about the tantric meditation practice of watching the seeds planted in our unconscious float to the surface until we break the cycle of endlessly planting new ones, and I am ultimately reminded of the challenges my stepson is having with his parents who had problems with their parents; all of us just longing to be recognized for the brilliant beings we are and for everyone to notice what we do and admire it enough that someone would want to cover our songs...

James Huckenpahler
Washington, D.C.

untitled

Stuff on my eyes:
Looking at clouds
Sally Mann at the Corcoran; looking forward to seeing her work at Hemphill Fine Arts as well.
Excellent group show at Marsha Mateyka that includes older prints by Andrea Way, who is in the Pierogi 2000 flatfiles

Stuff in my ears:
Deathprod, "Imaginary Songs from Trastan da Cuhna"
The Books, "Thought for Food"
Miscellaneous tracks by GloMag and Bubblyfish
Unrealesed tracks from Curt Smith's forthcoming "Halfway Pleased"

Karen Greene
Washington Heights, New York City

untitled

I was walking to hang my contributions for the art show and saw a pile of burned garbage on the street-- and began framing it in various ways.

Then I saw the charred newspaper and knew that was THE photo-- sort of encapsulating the nature of the political process and opinion. I only took one frame of it-- but knew it was IT. For me, photos both capture and create reality.

PP
New York City

Quintessential Horizon

I made a traditional summery-fresh horizon to see how the process of dissolving my rebellious self-image was going. And I'm happy to say I like the ordinariness just fine. Sort of looks like a decal.

Tim Folzenlogen
Washington Heights, New York City

my studio

This year, I listed my studio on the map for the Uptown Art Stroll 2004.

I had no idea what to expect, as I have never done anything like this before. I was hoping for lots of people, as I’ve been showing at Monkey Room and Bleu (which is just up the street) for years. I advertised my open studio at both locations.

Still, having done a hundred or so art projects in the past, I know what a rare find physical response can often be.
Renee was here on Saturday. Misako was home on Sunday.

Maybe eight people showed up on Saturday - a dozen or so on Sunday.

I could write a page, or two, or many about each of them. They were all magical encounters to me. I always perceive the magic in the other. I always have.
What seems to be changing is that, more and more, the other is also aware of their magic, and my magic, and so a much more sensual dialogue is starting to take place.

Rosa Naparstek
Washington Heights, New York City

"Ring Around The Rosey"

At this moment,
I am very tired with what I do.
Seems at times too facile...
even though it may take months
placing color and material
to elicit sense. I want to do BIG work,
themes writ large...be profound,
but keep coming back to the little places where we are all made and unmade
wondering how personal is too personal__
where is it only my own sadness.
I looked at last weeks VC entries and
am inspired to be more.
No, this is not a poem.
The words just look better
arranged this way.

Renee Tamara Watabe
Verona, NJ

What a Woman Wants
Image Eight: The God in Me Meets the God in Thee

Pat asked me, who/what are you asking when you ask for what you want?
I thought that was a penetrating question. Even the simplest want, like thirst or hunger or sleepiness is futile without at least the hope that there is water, food or sleep to be had.
There is a famous quote that says ask and it will be given, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened. Considering the ways organized religion can suck the power out of you, that is quite an empowering statement. Just ask, just look around you, just give it a heck of a try! Something is bound to happen.
Who am I asking? I used to ask the “powers that be.” “Almighty God.”
Now my perceptions are evolving. The universe proves to be so interactive, responsive, and alive. Think about it long enough, articulate it clearly enough and poof! You summon it. What does a woman want? Someone to ask. You’ll do.
For the God in me to meet the God in you.

Anthony Gonzalez
Washington Heights, New York City

untitled

I almost didn't submit this week because I wasn't able to give the piece the time I felt it needed. This would have been the first week I missed since I started contributing to this community. I fear that if I let myself miss a week, I might lose the rhythm and momentum that these weekly entries have given me. So - I consider this a work in progress. Perhaps you will see a another version of it at some future time.

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