Thursday, April 12, 2007
Cabin Fever
12.04.2007
I've been spending the most recent days here reading and cleaning out my hard drives.
I'd call that cabin fever.
I have realized thus far my working process is as such;
Wait. Wait. Wait until I can't take it anymore and do something.
So currently my excuse is the weather and the snow/slush on the ground. It is not condusive to my romantic sense of spending time in the nature. And although I know and am prepared for any sort of weather under the performance, my walk to Eggum and the "Ideal" sculpture, I'm not prepared to start wandering when it's raining. Call me lazy, call me a bum, call me what you want, just don't call me Shirley.
It is romantic though; the wind howling through my cabin while watching Hotel Caeser (a norwegian soap opera), rain pitter pattering on the roof, cabbage soup warming my insides.
I'm not being ironic here. This transition to the small village life is what I needed for real. I don't feel like I miss anything here, I don't have many engagements, I can stroll around J.M. Johansens vei (the main street) and not feel like I have to get some where. The quite here is different than the quiet of living in a regualar apartment in the city. I would describe it as peaceful as opposed to isloated. And it is the piece which is allowing me to think more.
Thinking in absolutes is not wise, however, I have attempted it with the following illustration:
Have I gone out on a limb here with this one? Perhaps. I welcome any arguements.
I've been spending the most recent days here reading and cleaning out my hard drives.
I'd call that cabin fever.
I have realized thus far my working process is as such;
Wait. Wait. Wait until I can't take it anymore and do something.
So currently my excuse is the weather and the snow/slush on the ground. It is not condusive to my romantic sense of spending time in the nature. And although I know and am prepared for any sort of weather under the performance, my walk to Eggum and the "Ideal" sculpture, I'm not prepared to start wandering when it's raining. Call me lazy, call me a bum, call me what you want, just don't call me Shirley.
It is romantic though; the wind howling through my cabin while watching Hotel Caeser (a norwegian soap opera), rain pitter pattering on the roof, cabbage soup warming my insides.
I'm not being ironic here. This transition to the small village life is what I needed for real. I don't feel like I miss anything here, I don't have many engagements, I can stroll around J.M. Johansens vei (the main street) and not feel like I have to get some where. The quite here is different than the quiet of living in a regualar apartment in the city. I would describe it as peaceful as opposed to isloated. And it is the piece which is allowing me to think more.
Thinking in absolutes is not wise, however, I have attempted it with the following illustration:
Have I gone out on a limb here with this one? Perhaps. I welcome any arguements.
