Tag Archives: art

4 miles on February 9

Here’s an aerial view of the mysterious Ziermann in the desert (details forthcoming, I hope).

Seeing this landscape, my heart explodes.

I caught the sunrise today (6:58am) and the sun looked exactly like a planet from a Ray Bradbury short story, levitating and glowing, too bright to look at directly. It was the color of a red stoplight.

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0 miles on February 8

This is an art installation by Luzius Ziermann that is composed of rear-view mirrors and that exists somewhere in the Namibian desert. There’s a lot to be said about the idea of placing art in desolate places, or of planting industrial remains in arid ground. There is precedent and theory, and, truthfully, I can’t speak to any of it.

When I saw this picture, I thought of the way the sun was was nearly blinding in my eyes this morning, and how I need to run again, this week — tomorrow, perhaps — because soon enough the sunrise will occur too early for even me to catch. And did you know? Hank Williams wrote his most famous country spiritual about the shine of the lights of the local airport through his windshield as he drove up Rt. 31 in Alabama. After this recollection, I thought about contemplation and radio static and stillness and motion, and I looked at this picture again, this picture of a strange  endeavor in the sands of a far-away place. Cars, deserts, loneliness, mornings, and moments. It’s enough, I think, for all of that to be the world.

5.2 miles on January 19

Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe became enmeshed forever after she unleashed an imperative to him: “Run!”

It’s not surprising to learn, but she and Mapplethorpe spent their early years wandering as one perfect organism. When they only had money for a single museum ticket, one would wait outside while the other took in everything on the inside in order to report back. They searched for Mallomars on Myrtle Avenue when they had no money because they were Mapplethorpe’s favorites. And they inhabited that space in New York that must have become so necessary to those with nowhere in which to stay still, that space where coincidence and chance are the only things, really, worth paying any mind because they’ll always get you somewhere, in the end.