Here to meet with the McSweeney’s folks about our long-discussed plan to do a book of the “tree” drawings. As often happens, in two separate meetings we got sorted what had been languishing for at least a year, with various e-mails going back and forth. It’s going to be called Arboretum, appropriately, and will be simple looking, though making things look simple and straightforward is never as easy as it seems.
826 Valencia was buzzing — there were writing classes in progress, people milling about the pirate supply store up front and the tiny back office that amazingly manages Believer, McSweeney’s and now Wholphin (the DVD magazine) was filled with activity and the desks were overflowing.
This bunch has good ideas — their comments and suggestions are spot on — we plan on the book hitting stores and other outlets Aug–Sept this year.
It was raining, but the next day the weather cleared up and this city sparkled with that crystalline Northern California light that makes everything pop out with hard edges. The folding bikes came in handy, though due to the X-mas plane traffic Continental charged for overweight coming here and a surprise “bike charge” ($80!) returning. This has never ever happened to me before. I think the X-mas spirit vaccine didn’t take on the airline check-in folks — they’re probably totally overworked this season. (The “bike charge” must have been meant for people who don’t have folding bikes; the airlines sometimes add a charge for wrapping a whole bike in cardboard, understandably. But these were in suitcases, so the rule was inappropriately applied. Ahem.)
There’s lot to see between meetings — Robert Adams’ sad but chaotic and beautiful photos of clear-cutting and Kiki Smith’s retrospective at SF MoMA and two lovely pieces by British artist Cornelia Parker at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts. One piece was made of the remains of a church struck by lighting, the other of a church burned by arson.
Here’s a picture:
And a short interview:
BF: Obviously with Cold Dark Matter: The Exploded View, you actually blew up a building which was probably scarier for everybody but you. What was the motivation for that?
CP: I had done the piece with the steamroller-Thirty Pieces of Silver-and the piece with the train running over coins — Matter and What it Means. I was thinking of different ways of killing something off. I think the explosion was another clichéd cartoon death. At the time I was living in a house that was due to be knocked down for a motorway in a few months time, but it kept getting postponed for another six months and so on for almost ten years. I think because of living for such a long time with this constant threat of demolition that is where the steamroller and explosion ideas came from. But it wasn't a home I blew up; it was just a garden shed, a surrogate. It's another British institution, the garden shed.
BF: It feels more like J.G. Ballard than T.S. Eliot somehow, doesn't it? It has more of that kind of wit.
CP: I think it came from all kinds of places. It's a modern condition: the threat of bomb scares, and the fear it symbolizes. From seeing explosions on the news and all the time in films you sort of think you know what they are, but really your firsthand knowledge of it is very limited. I realized I'd never walked through the detritus of a bombed-out building.
BF: It's almost like you believe things are animated. Or that they're potentially animated. That they're sitting there still but if you do something to them then they're going to be animated.
CP: I like the life/death resurrection bit, which is very Catholic, something dies, but it's resurrected in another form.
Then there are the restaurants. Admittedly a foodie thing to do — but this seems to be the place that has become a center for food tourism — the produce is so fresh and it’s served in mostly casual unpretentious settings and mixed in imaginative combinations — it’s a gut-busting, wallet-thinning kind of place for a visitor. The Slanted Door, Delphina, Foreign Cinema, Luna Park, Blue Plate, San Juan Taqueria, El Farolito Taqueria, Blowfish Sushi, Greens, Zuni and Liberty Café. Most of these are in or near the Mission district, which was convenient to the hotel and to 826 Valencia, but there are many many more. Every one a winner. Not always cheap — for being in a sometimes-funky neighborhood some of these mission joints have uptown gourmet prices, but the food quality and relaxed vibes are better than many fussy uptown hoity-toity places.
Saturday is a day off so we take a bike ride with Dave Eggers in the Marin headlands. Load the bikes onto a MetroMuni bus, all of which have bike racks up front, and head across the bridge. After a little rain it turns into one of those gorgeous days that are such clichés to describe, so I won’t. There are bike trails all over the headlands and around western Marin, much of which has been left as National Forest, so there are hawks and vultures and mountain lions and seals.
With the brisk air and the mist it reminded me of the bleak but beautiful Scottish highlands, though the rain drizzles less often here.
Dream: Jerusalem Mobile
…a dream at night of a woman with very short salt and pepper hair whom I meet and we chat briefly in a field as we walk together…then we part…but I obsessively must see her again…I end up in Jerusalem, where I need to be according to some itinerary, and where I hope to find her…but at the border where I am detained a fire breaks out in one of the buildings where we’re being questioned…along with the crowd of Hasidic and other men (noticeably more relaxed and friendly than their NY counterparts) I rush out of the burning room, down some outdoor stairs, we’re all jostled and smooshed, and ominously I hear a crunch. I am wearing a yarmulke. I rush out, in the lead, through the immigration gate, followed by the others. Smoke and flames billow behind, I am clutching my (unstamped) passport…the guard waves me and rest quickly through…we pour into the streets.
I reach for my mobile to call this woman, only to find it has been crushed, and as I try to hold its pieces together to find her number it slowly crumbles and nasty chemicals leak onto my hands, Chinese characters appear briefly on the screen…all I want is the last number I dialed, which was hers, but the phone is disintegrating in my hands. I imagine I will lose the love of my life. A feeling of desperation.
I save the SIM chip and some other parts and determine that maybe if I buy a new phone and insert my memory chip then I will be able to call her, as I have her number in there — and she lives here.
…
Had dinner with another ex-Talking Head, Jerry Harrison and his wife Carol, who are just back from the massive Consumer Electronics show in Vegas. Jerry won a whole bunch of awards for his and ET’s surround sound mixes of the Talking Heads re-releases, so he’s suddenly a tech expert in that area as well as being a successful record producer. He therefore gets invited to these kinds of confabs and we discussed the news reports about the IT companies jostling for positions in the upcoming convergence of TV with the Internet.
Some reports imply the creation of a two-tiered internet — one fast enough for TV streaming and the other like what we have. Naturally the high speed one would be proprietary — you’d have to pay to get on in — so the Internet would only be partly free, and just as Apple used to offer free viewing of music videos but now charges, little by little the corporations will find ways to lock up and charge for the world wide web.
Jerry says there are lots of fiber optic cables laid down that are unused, or not used to anywhere near their capacity. And that the dot com crash hurt the backers of this infrastructure more than it did anyone else, as they never even got their stuff truly up and running. Now might be the second chance.
