TEMPERATURE: 51
WEATHER: sunny, cloudless sky
NUMBER of OTHER PEOPLE: 0
STEPS WALKED INSIDE THE BUILDING: 1656
TOTAL TIME SPENT INSIDE INSTALLATION: 1 hour
I was talking to somebody last night who really doesn’t like the Robert Irwin installation at all. Which, honestly, was completely refreshing. “There was so much talk of staples,” they said. “So much pomp and cicumstance when it opened. I felt that I was being told it was great before I had a chance to make up my mind.”
And here I am, worshipping at the temple of minimalism every day. I take their words to heart, go buy a Mexican Coke and some on sale Tostitos and look at the Irwin from the outside, while I’m in my car. I think of the Frank Ohara Poem, “Having a Coke With You,” and try to rewrite a lonely hearts version called “Having A Coke With No One.” I don’t get very far.
Earlier today I came in here and raged. I knew I wasn’t supposed to but it seemed like the one emotion the place couldn't swallow up. I cursed at all the windows and shouted the names of all the people who have ever hurt me at the doors. The space swallowed the sound. Then I apologized for ranting to nobody. But ranting is part of living is part of being is part of seeing. And experiencing. I couldn’t even look at the space I was so angry. It became a blur of windows, a labyrinth of shadows, a series of edges to hate. So I did.