Vija Celmins

In the New Yorker:

What I wanted was to pick an image that just described a surface, and to document that image -- place it out there, without any feeling. Of course, that's impossible, unless you're Duchamp. I wanted to remove myself and leave something, a sensibility.

labor day weekend

Early each morning for the past week or so, I've been awakened by raccoons tussling on the fence outside my bedroom. I think they might be nesting next door -- the house has many openings. I'm back to thinking that I need to nail something spiky and uncomfortable on the top of the fence. There is also usually a disturbance in the bark chips in the back yard that I straighten up every morning.

The dishwasher is chugging and I'm just sitting on my orange stool, thinking about doing this or that.

KW and Craig came to dinner last night. We had
tomato risotto, the salad with melon, basil, fennel, and pistachios, and steamed green beans. I also made a galette with strawberries and currants. Craig made manhattans for us all. I really should have people over more often. I realized last night that just having a couple of people is a lot less taxing. Then again, it takes a certain amount of energy just to get these things going so there's a rationale for inviting several people -- more bang for your hosting buck, so to speak.