We rang in June 1st with a northerly drive. Unfortunately we were sucked into a vortex of industrial parks which is all too easy to fall victim to living in the burbs. We chalked it up to a faulty quarter toss and went in search for a caffeine injection, it didn't take long though since Agent Pineapple works in a coffee shop: I can pick 'em! Coffees in hand we stepped out the door to discover that the wind had shifted and the sky had turned pink, an eerie pink. It was clear that the only way June 1st could be salvaged was to race home and grab the cameras for some night shots. Ms. Agent helped me set up the tripod and I went to town taking shots of this stone factory that I can't get anywhere near in the day. The passersby were very intrigued, perhaps they thought we were terrorists.
Surburbia is better in the dark, it gains a slight veneer of intrigue. My mother and I used to go for late-night drives down the side streets and count the number of houses that actually had their lights on. The results were very disappointing :) I encourage everyone to take pictures at night. Live dangerously. Take a walk on the wild side and all that jazz! Night is when the ideas fly in for a visit.
I am slowly digesting Taking Flight. I love this book, it's like a personal cheerleader that congratulates you every time you crack the spine! I'm on chapter 2, which prompts you to identify your fears. "If I wasn't afraid, I would": take art classes, lots of them! I have been terrified of taking art classes since it was drawing at the local park district in elementary school. Sometimes I wonder what happened to that girl, the one who danced on stage, talked in class with eyes on fire, and went to art camp. She has been neglected for some time but is jumping up and down for June 10th, the first day of my first grown up art class! First stop portraiture, next stop Stencilry in August! I'm so excited that I'm "stenciling" on the computer as you can see above. Sometimes I feel like I'm growing up, but not in a bad way. I cannot express how cathartic simply identifying that thing that slowly gnaws at the ankles of your being is.