Sandblasting

Feel like I've been to the beach. I'm back home from a day at D's, working the wrack. Brought pieces back with me, to apply, maybe, some finish, and in the middle of my house are four major and one minor sculptural monads. Three of the major and the minor are done. An impressive grouping: a Goat Head, a Bull Head, a Sweeper, and a totally abstract thing; the minor piece is a small burned oval that looks like an African Head. D working on the bed, then at the end of the day we put together the massive chair, a piece that manages to be both funny and functional, needs sandblasting and polyurethane. Stopped at B's and the torso is beautiful. In the parlance of preparators, we have a show. And I have sand everywhere. With Kim here for the first week of installation, to help set the walls, I'm more than confidant we'll bring this project through to MORE THAN the original idea, whether or not it would take the interest of anyone else. I can't answer that. Our job ends with conceptually filling a space. Many times last week, I was asked, one way or another, what did I think people would think, and I don't know, hadn't really considered the question, I think I had the thought that if we did this with interesting sticks, attached in interesting ways, that funneled you through openings to look at interesting things, that it would be interesting. Something like that. Fell victim to my own folly, there was a rotten heart in the top of the abstract stump and I just blew it away, and there was a bowled depression; I remembered a small plastic bowling ball and it fit perfectly. If you turn the three holes correctly, it looks like a surprised face, a mouth and two eyes. Bowling balls are funny, circular artifacts with three cylindrical holes, what do you make of that? We assume it was a weapon but it might have been a game. If you have any bridge-work, and want to do some sandblasting, get a very good hood, tape every opening, sand is insidious, not without a conscious thought, invidious; first thing, I get a Q-tip and clean my ears, finger the corners of my eyes, spit, get rid of extra shit, look carefully at what I see. Still holds up if we break it down, something, though not what we expected. Hey, listen, I'm the janitor, my goal is to paint the walls and mop the floors, I have no expectations.