10 September 2008

yer doin it wrong

It’s taken me more than a week to start coming down from New York Speed, and I’ve got a long ways to go, still buzzing around my little rooms like a locked-in cat chasing ghosts. I’ve been forcing myself to stay in and settle, but it no longer seems like the right thing to do, and it’s not really working anyway – I’m as antsy as ever, and stewing. In part, I can plead poverty, living as I am on a budget, but my enjoyment of Paris is suffering, and I suppose now that I’m just going about it all wrong. Instead of trying to think my way to whatever it is I’m looking for here, I just need to walk and look and work.

Separating thought from action has been part of the plan from the beginning – to read and think about my work and Art in the Grand Scheme, while drawing and painting whatever the hell comes to mind. I’m starting to enjoy the latter (though it’s hard to let go of wanting everything to be good) but I’m as confused about the former as ever. Maybe I need to take in more of what Paris has to offer. Yes, the walking street life I keep mentioning, but I mean real study, too. Further investigation into the early history of Photography, daily trips to the Louvre for obsessing over Cezanne, fuck, maybe some painting en plein air.

I still haven’t practiced my French much. Almost all my conversation is with the people I buy from at the market. Even my “restaurant French” is bad (not that I’ve gone out to eat much) and I can hardly recognize any of the dishes. I did have one decent test at the Art Openings on Saturday, when I just had to find out more about the De Lorean I saw stuffed with objects, doors open and parked on the street. It turned out to be a mobile gallery of sorts, called Galerie J. They have a VW in Geneva, and now this… Can’t say I liked the work – some giant Q-Tips (with wax ends!), a black acrylic painting with “THE END” cut from it, and an arrangement of small Marshall Amps, playing something. Still, feigning interest allowed me the chance to talk about art en français in a less intimidating atmosphere than the regular galleries. I tried again at Les Puces on Sunday, but I felt broke and crabby and stumbled over my French. I didn’t stay long.

I have been exploring my neighborhood around Ménilmontant more, in hopes of finding the perfect café to localize. I think I can afford the €2 coffee for an hour or so of being out in the world. Who knows, maybe I’ll even strike up a conversation…

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