And so it begins...

July 1, 2013. 6:00pm.

I cannot say this has been the perfect start to this completely ridiculous task.  Having moved my studio into my apartment only a few days ago, I feel quite uncomfortable in the workspace as of right now and have no flow or ease in regards to the production of the first pieces.  As of 6:00pm I have not even cut into the first piece of fabric!  The panic resulting from this fact is less potent than the panic I am experiencing while second guessing this choice to move the studio to begin with.  I have faith that I am only worried about this because it is so new and moving can do these things to you, but it is distracting nonetheless.  On top of this, last night my phone decided to erase all of my contacts leaving me feeling even more isolated and handcuffed in terms of control and confidence in everything.  I had to restore my phone back to the state it was in way back in October of 2012, the last time I backed up any information.  Upon executing this task, which took me approximately three hours and two different Apple staff members, as well as $20, the contacts came back but also erased every interaction I had had on my phone since October.  What struck me was that all of that information had not existed in my mind whatsoever.  Being a child of the 80's, during which it was a major social bonus to have your own phone line separate from the house phone, memorizing your friends' telephone numbers was crucial, not to mention knowing family numbers as well in case of emergency.  At this point in time, I could not recollect a single number outside of the four or five that I have known my whole life, that which still exists as my parents main number, though at this time they do not even have a land line anymore.  It was like the external file cabinet of information, which I rely on more than I care to admit, came down with a severe case of dejavu and proceeded to reenact Back to the Future.  Though this is disturbing to me, the difference is that now there is an unlimited way of contacting people, this rings true for complete strangers, let alone those near and dear.  During graduate school at SVA, a good friend of mine, Amber Boardman, created a list of all of the ways that it was possible to get in touch with her, including going to her house and ranging all the way to google-ing her name, etc.  There was an astounding amount of possibilities, and this coming from someone that didn't have much of an investment in social media and the like.  What I don't understand about these things is where that information goes.  A few months ago, I did the one thing you are never supposed to do... I removed the USB cable connecting my camera to my computer too soon during the import and lost a significant amount of photographs, never to be recovered again.  Do these little bits of energy and information and memories just hang around in the atmosphere?  In the space we cannot see or interact with? Flying about, hovering over our heads, maybe sometimes infiltrating our consciousness secretly through the channels of the sub?  I mean, these things are physical represented, even if digitally, they exist as words or symbols or images, even when they are broken down into a more abstract concept that what I can understand, they take up energetic space on our devices.  I imagine a giant Mac "trash" icon in some other dimension somewhere, floating about, constantly making that familiar and gratifying sound of space being created.  

  This all being said and done, ending all work today at 1:30am, it was a rough day, but I think the pieces themselves look quite nice on the wall and though it was difficult to motivate and focus on the work in a space in disarray, it only took me about 6 hours to make the pants, a shirt, undergarments, and a couple of pairs of leggings.   I think the craftsmanship should definitely improve, I was rusty and rushed today.  Hopefully for going forward this won't feel so hectic.