Creative Juices

Started the day in pure janitor mode, muttering under my breath about what slobs people were; wondering how shit could get on the side of the toilet, how chewing-gum could get in the urinal, why people would grind grapes into the grout joints. If you drop a grape in your house, you pick it up. Either your mother or the memory of your mother's voice tells you to. Did some light mopping. When Sara came in, she said she wanted to talk about the Carter Collection. I had seen this coming, because a great many Carter's are in the next main show, which is delayed because of the elevator work, but, point is, the entire Carter permanent collection will have to re-hung. After lunch, we brought Sara back a salad from the pub, so technically during her lunch, we stared talking about it. D was conducting this particular brain-storming session, wielding a ruler; he has this 'bubble' procedure he learned in grad school, what connects what to what, like a pattern of Venn Diagrams, and we were talking about the way things connected. We were all brain dead by four o'clock. A great afternoon. We were actually talking about art, and the museum, like it mattered. I'd missed Sara for this very reason. Everyone loses track of the fact that this is a museum. I want to bang them on their heads. D, Sara and I have a great afternoon; Pegi joins us, quickly grasps what's going on. There are four mini galleries in the Carter space and how they might be organized in a different thematic way. There's a clear sense we've only just started this conversation (you understand my capacity to be distracted), and I'm excited. Some things I'd wanted to mention might come into play. Close to my chest.