Wendesday, November 27

• the concentric circles around the old drain pipe fold over the edge of the balcony, half of lichen, half of peeling paint.

• The strange juxtopositions that could only happen in my studio: a wooden bird figurine standing in front of a painted bird. The branch I picked up on the street a few days ago cirls around both, its deep green leaves picking up the color of the painting, and the green lines on the bird, tying them together.

• The group of children making their way up the road beneath my balcony. Their shirts create a pattern of pinks and purples, playing off the red lines on the edge of the sidewalked, interspersed with spots of blue. When they begin walking, the snake stretches out, begins to break, as some kids run ahead.

• The perfect geometric shapes of the planters on the balcony. Even the shadow creates a ractangle. The deep brown of the planter casts a rosy glow over the scene as a whole, The rising green leaves shine out, a sole note of contrast. 

• The lone figure making her way up down the road, dwarfed by the trees and their shadows. The blue of her jean picks up the blue of the pedestrian crossing sign, the color of human presence/