cause and effect

This is the first real attempt to calculate the idiocy/splendor of the things I did this last weekend. To counter the effects of the extreme heat and gallery show puffing and fluffing, I decided to take air in some more or less dodgy places (depending upon what hour you caught me at during my 3-day spree).

Part One: Columbia, Pennsylvania

I wound up taking a day off from work for the odd and unrelaxing reason of my driving to Lancaster to have my car inspected. In this time of tossing money into the bottomless gullet of the show, I wanted to be spared the (hopefully) needless expense of getting ripped off at my neighborly garage. And it worked (yeah the $21 inspection!).

Honestly, I don't know my home town all that well. I've gotten lost in Lancaster City proper in recent memory. This is partly due to the fact that I didn't get my driver's license until I was 19 and in college. And that my hermit-likeness started early on and in highschool I did basically NOTHING, save draw with a fevered fury. It didn't require I leave the house or be social. Moving on... I was a band nerd and I recall going to the town of Columbia for a football game or 3. And emblazoned in the old seive of a memory was the doom and gloom message from my mother, Columbia is a rough town/wrong side of the tracks/don't wander off alone.

So I thought I should pay it a visit for that reason alone. And alone at that.


gap © Laura Kicey

So I had a little dizzy spell when, as soon as I exited route 30 and turned toward Columbia, I saw a sizable abandoned factory, roofless and overgrown. BEAUTY. Found just beyond the parking lot of a Burger King.

I'll take some fries with that.

Attempted and failed to get lost, kept thinking I was turning away from streets I had been on and kept ending up on the same ones. I stumbled upon all sorts of loverly things in the meantime. Then I saw IT. Without realizing quite what I had stumbled upon. From the street, what I could see was a sign for FIREWOOD. Some small greenhouses packed to capacity with huge weeds. Barely legible signs for antiques. and another advertising kerosene tank filling. I pulled over to get a closer look on foot. The angle wasn't great for anything, so I started making my way back to the car.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man in the driveway of the place, scrubbing a truck. Knowing what I do of Lancaster... the infinite permutations of ways this could have gone very badly... I shudder and not for the last time this weekend... And I just walked up to him, excused me'd like four times and then proceeded to scare the bejesus out of him. Smoothness! Then asked straight out if he would mind very much if I took some photos on his property and had a look round. No beating about the bush. Worst approach ever.

He got very excited! And gestured largely and animatedly in describing some of the splendors of his property, though he sold none of it was for sale, and told me to make sure I tell him what catches my eye, he is dying to know what I find interesting.


weeding © Laura Kicey

The main attraction was this semi-shed structure that was one roof made of rippled plastic, one wall and some supporting columns... filled to the gills with bicycles, rusty lockers, ceiling fans, stained glass windows, boxes, chairs and vines. So much so that one could not walk in at all. I worked my way around the property, peering in the greenhouses filled to the gills with what I have been told are referred to as ghetto palms (thanks jill!) and more bicyles.... through the yard filled with old bathtubs, school buses filled with hub caps... and a trailer filled with christmas decorations. He kept calling out to me to make sure I was okay and we did a run down of what I liked most at the end. Apparently I did not shoot the two things most people stop specifically to get: The large wooden flag with names written in Sharpie on it and some curious sort of silver vent hood with a star on it.


ingrown © Laura Kicey

I felt a little guilty but told him I found a much better flag that he didn't know about (a frail and barely there slip of a thing in a grotty back corner) and he pointed out that I missed a perfectly good bag of heads. I was informed that I need to visit again in the Spring when every available flat surface and hanging hook is decked out with flowers.

I may do just that.


periwinkle © Laura Kicey

While we were talking at a number of points, he put his bright blue-tinted specs on his forehead. Just before I left, I asked to take his photo. He had taken his specs off altogether... I asked that he replace them on his forehead.


Part Two: Middle of Nowhere

Early Saturday I rolled out to Boiling Springs to meet up with D and make our way out to Middleton for Saturday's Market Merrymaking.


meniscus © Laura Kicey

I picked up on a pair of amazing protective eyewear, replete with leather fittings. I also bore the burden of enormous fried chicken-induced guilt. We hooked up with Miss Beaver, Domestic Goddess in her quest for 50s vintage goodness to deck out her new abode. Christian accordion players, bad mathematics, and patriotic phalluses ensued.

To make the most of the dismal, rather cool, but not rainy day, D and I took off for Nowhere off of Route 78 to uncover the remains of a rather recently abandoned motel in Frystown (which doesn't seem to appear on any map) which he had mentally bookmarked on one of his treks to and from nyc.

It was utterly astounding and thoroughly unsettling. Having not explored too many recent 'quick abandonments' as is the variety where it appears that one day, people just up and left their lives still sitting on table and tucked in drawers, the presence of people was still keenly felt. Calendars and newspapers in the office and rooms indicated that the last day of occupancy was approximately October 5, 2005... but the decay and the furnishings took us some 30 years back.

We started at the office end of the property. Of all the rooms, this is where I felt closest to... peril? living people? an answer? Walking behind the desk gave me chills, looking into the back room, it was obvious there had been squatters. Piles of blankets and shopping carts filled with collected items.

Out back of the same room, an old red armchair, another shopping cart filled, a likewise abandoned mobile home we weren't brave enough to get close to.


yard work © Laura Kicey

I haven't stayed in many hotels in my time. I can't even think of a hotel where I have stayed in more than one room. I always pictured uniformity. Instead, here, every room had its own seedy character, color scheme, textile pattern, bizarre anonymous art... and the inhabitants left behind pieces of their own life stories.


unmade © Laura Kicey

This place was a special kind of nowhere that doesn't quite belong to the city, and is only very loosely tied to farmy bumpkinishness. It was one of those truly in-between places, frequented by truckers and transients. People obviously lived here. One room appeared to be a nursery. One a seedy lust den, bra and leopard print accoutrements. One home office. Another might have been the reason it was abandoned: scarred by fire, the ceiling collapsing and fiberglass spewing forth, rubble everywhere. Every door was open, but every secret was still safe.

We checked to make sure the coast was clear before leaving every room. Creepy tragicomedy.


checking in © Laura Kicey

Not once were we disturbed by a living soul, even though there were neighboring houses that were obvioulsy still occupied... but the things we saw, those images will stick with me for a while.

We continued down making a couple other stops off of 78. Hitting Shartlesville, long enough to buy some scrumptious produce at a farmer's roadside stand and walk around the rather desolate town.


descriptives © Laura Kicey

Then we circled round to the amazing Roadside America. Which looks wholly unpromising from the outside. Especially as they have to spell out Be Prepared To See More Than You Expect on the front of their building in huge letters. But it was quite amazing and bizarre. Especially captivating was the 'night pageant' with religious and patriotic (natch) overtones. The photographic results were kind of eh but the experience was worth the price of admission. And their zoo had a flock of flamingos so I cannot fault them for anything.


harem © Laura Kicey

Part Three: South Philly, Pennsylvania

I raced home Sunday morning to make it down to South Philly and meet a fellow flickrer Okaypro.


okay © Laura Kicey

After filling the belly with fake meats and real queso, we decided to go looking for trouble in the guise of some 'abandoned' buildings she had caught a glimpse of just a little further down Broad Street, around Bainbridge.

Most Foolishest White Womenses Alive!


cling © Laura Kicey

Excitedly prancing around rubble, clothes, and a solemn black leather couch in amongst the weeds, we were approached from behind from one very cracked out girl who wanted to chat with us. She sized us up, asking if we wanted to know the history of the neighborhood, decided on second thought she didn't want to tell us and then wandered away. Mildly shaken we continued on to the row of houses, which we found were not so abandoned at all and were actually burnt-out but still occupied crack houses. As we made our way around the block we kept seeing faces reappearing and circling and the first girl reappeared with a large man companion heading for us and we basically both decided that would be it, we were about to be robbed.

Until they changed course and went into the one abandoned building. We decided we would be less umm... idiotic for maybe going back to the west side of Broad and wandering that-a-way.


rise © Laura Kicey

Sweaty and grizzly, we covered a lot of ground, met up with another flickrer and wound up in University City at some club. Probably the wisest thing I did in three days time, but only stayed for 20 minutes and didn't really take any photos to speak of.

Something is skewed in my thrillometer methinks. I don't think I'd have it any other way.

out of order

flesh of my flesh © Laura Kicey

No great success this week in cobbling together enough minutes to write out the tales of encounters with random strangers in stranger places, abandoned motels in the middle of likewise empty places, miniature villages, crackhouses, criminal near misses, and fake chicken.

Will be amended before my next adventure. Possibly. I really need some sleep. Oh and three cheers (or seven if you are feeling generous) for Mr. D who had a great interview yesterday in Jenkintown. May events smile upon you and fall in place, very very soon.


drawn © Laura Kicey

details

Where have I been? Where haven't I been?

I've got some tales. A lot of ground was covered (enough hours spent on the road to cross the entire state and then some), buttloads of photos were taken, but We haven't got time!!

So I'll start with this to wet the whistle:


extinguished © Laura Kicey

Almost certainly am making it into the Inquirer. I think that makes 5 papers, but I am losing track...

Also- the postcards for the show have arrived and they look fantastic. $40/1000 one-sided. A steal!

reflective

square dance one © Laura Kicey

Photojojo.com, which is a fun photography how-to newsletter & blog has asked if they might re-run my article on self-portrait photography. Not 100% certain, but.... if I concoct another story I might like to contribute, I can pitch it. Hmm... interesting. Good exposure! Excited!

Back to work...

withdrawing

featherlite © Laura Kicey

The day wound down in a very strange rough way. I've been having really wretched headaches for four days now, no aspirin was touching them. Along with generally being bitchy, queasy, and jittery. I thought stress. Then I did some math. I realized I filled the coffee canister four days ago. Seems I filled it with an accidental purchase of DECAF.

I've been in withdrawal for days. This explains OODLES.

So I went out food shopping and got some coffee. When I came home I unpacked the groceries in a couple of trips to the car. Last trip I notice something on the garden wall which is right by the main road. I walk over closer and see it is a baby bird. He is chirpy and gleeful. I walk closer to attempt to shoo him into the garden.

Unexpectedly he flies...and counter-intuitively... he flies towards me. And onto the berm of the busy street. Me: starts freaking out.

Attempts... by walking into traffic to steer birdy back to grass. Cars are veering towards center of road to avoid madwoman making insane gestures at the street. Baby bird flies into the street. Car comes. And I hear it and see it all and double over and shriek and start sobbing.

And turn to see that I was being watched by a guy in a car who was making ready to turn. And feel like a complete lunatic but cannot stop sobbing and can barely stand up am balling so hard.

Am still feeling like the most horrible person on earth at the moment.

Went inside. Made some coffee. For the first time in a long time really wanted something stronger than coffee. Have nothing stronger than coffee. Ball some more. New headache moves in. And then K picks me up and smooths my hair and we make my website happen in three-ish hours. And I am distracted from the fact that I am a murderer for that long.

Well that was a load off my mind.

*sob*

This has been a very long day.

split

forfeit © Laura Kicey

Uh huh. (tap tap tap taptaptap) Mmm hmm. (tap tap tap taptaptap)Uh huh. (tap tap tap taptaptap)Mmm hmm. (tap tap tap taptaptap)

That is basically what the interview sounded like to me (her typing and agreeing, not I). I didn't babble! Was nearly charming, but I don't think she was charmed, which made it hard... Seven minutes. That was all. Not probing philosophical artsy fartsy deeper meaning bs which was a great relief.

I find it unnerving when asked what sort of subjects I shoot most. I don't know how to answer it. Even when not under pressure I don't know. In her attempts to put a positive spin on things, she called it 'diverse subject matter'. Shrug. Ok.


parting ways © Laura Kicey

My publicist would probably like to know the interviewer said it is likely going in Montgomery Life. But she wasn't sure?! Must call Gazette. Pronto.

I am having a problem with being paralyzed when thinking about the things I still need to do in the next week and 3/4.

*blink blink*

Just remember to breathe.


Edit: Spoke to the Gazette editor and she has a reporter on me... we should talk soon evidently.

shrink rap

equipped © Laura Kicey


I'm sure I blogged that photo before. Oh well. The blow by blow update called for it. The Enterprise will be using it to accompany their write up. Which will hit homes the day before the opening. Is that false advertising? I s'pose my tits will be at the show, if not under glass. Bonus!

The frames HAVE ARRIVED. The prints HAVE NOT. That's ok! I will need to lie prostrate and not move after the interview for at least an hour. And then eat toast. Recovery takes time.

busybody

auto body © Laura Kicey

Tonight's plan: phone interview, distribute email invitations, think up a new face for my website's frown- one that includes a link to the invitation & press release.

No problem.

I really could use some air. The ass doth widen.

arc d'triomphe

catcher © Laura Kicey

Just informed I made it into another paper! They asked for a photo of me with one of my pieces... Having none, I sent them some other options and said it could be arranged if they weren't feelin' what I sent them.

w00t!

worthwhiling

gatekeeper © Laura Kicey

I've been wanting to explore the area more. So today I picked a direction and drove. And drove. Until I realized I was in Warrington. AGAIN. When I lived with my family in Lancaster and we would end up getting lost, we always ended up going to Harrisburg. Apparently when one gets lost out this way, all roads lead to Warrington.

So I picked a new direction once I recovered myself from the Warrington Vortex for the second time this weekend and stumbled upon the nearby gem that is North Wales. One of the few walkable towns around, in the few blocks I circled around in my car, I saw a goodly amount of things that needed further investigation. Including an unmarked warehouse that had large painted wood cutouts of Gibson Girls. A little bit of 70s industrial, a little bit of decay... strokes chin, nods knowingly....

Why didn't I get out of the car? Finding a street wide enough to park on was a little tricky... I'll work on it.

new hope, matter of opinion

overwrought © Laura Kicey

In need of a few hours away from the rays of the computer monitor before I check off the last of the show to-dos before the frames arrive, I decided to drive up to New Hope. I haven't been up in almost two years and I recalled seeing things of interest there and on the way before...

What a weird brand of fussed-up fussed-over overpriced decay. It is far more like a posh South Street than I remember it and every time I walked on a main street, I ended up in the cloud of some goth tart's clove cigarette.

Then it started to rain. Upon returning to my car, I collected my $20 parking ticket and proceeded to somehow get lost going home, which is basically a straight path... but managed to drive 45 minutes out of the way into Warrington before I realized the strips mall were not the same strip malls I had seen coming up.


numerical order © Laura Kicey

I had seen this clock building on the way up. And had decided to stop and shoot it on the way home. Fortunately, once I got myself unlost, I actually drove past it. I am going to attempt to redeem this craptacular day by making something creative tonight yet.

Bonus points to Mark Elliott for taking TWO posters for the show and hanging them in his two framing studio windows.

fine features

making peace © Laura Kicey

Marking the end of a whirling dervish of a week, sitting down at the computer unable to hear myself think for my neighbors Smashing Pumpkins below me... I schlurp miso soup and munch freakish black grapes that look like distened black fingers. And reflect.

The obsesso-checking of the inbox didn't go so hot as no one I emailed got back to me. I did place one phone call to the editor of The Ticket, which is a Whassup This Weekend Philly Burbs sort of insert thing. As I fumble through introducing myself, he interrupts me to say, 'Oh you're the one with the fantastic self-portrait!!'

I stammer and then he says 'I am looking at you right now!!'

"I feel like I am talking right to you, here looking at your wonderful red hair and your big blue eye."

He goes on to explain that as I called him he happened to be downloading the things I sent that very moment. Which made me stroke my chin in wonderment. So we chatted a bit and I let him describe the workings as I was not sure which direction I should be headed and if it was too late.... which it seemed, looking at the deadline sheet I was given.

The story is, his insert has a rather wide circulation and goes in many newspapers, including the Ambler Gazette. He said I would almost definitely get a writeup with the Gazette, but I should try to aim them towards just writing about the opening. He wanted to write a feature on my photography in general (GLEE) and was going to get one of his writers on it. What's more is he said loads of people wait until three or four days before an event to get something written, so by contrast we have oodles of time. He told me I can breathe again, not to worry.

I printed out some posters of the invitation, they look quite marvellous if I dare say so, and decided to hoof it down Butler Pike to see if I could encourage anyone to hang one. It is then I realized that our town packs up shop between 4 and 5pm on summer weekdays. Boo. I think I could get three posted. Ambler Theater, Denney Electric and No Bare Walls Framing. Postcards should be easier.... Next week I am sending out email invites first wave and hopefully meeting my new Ambler Womenses about the other show. I think I am going to take a break and watch Pink Flamingos at top volume and vacuum later. Much later. Grrrr.

nightvision

Because I am entirely useless at writing fiction I was most amused at what my unconscious and subconscious conspired to bring me this morning. It was one of those dreams right before the alarm wakes you which has you in such a deep sleep state you feel like you have been drugged when you are awakened. Anyway, what it amounts to is I had the ultimate photography dream and because of the enormity of my dorkiness (mingled with the fact that last night was rather tedious, though uneventful and lacking in new photos), I am going to share some highlights.


nightvision © Laura Kicey

It took place mostly at an abandoned church where some sort of meeting was going to take place. The mother of the groom of the wedding I just shot was there. And in a panicked state. Apparently someone had just discovered a freshly murdered body in the church basement. So naturally I had to go down into the (curiously well-lit) catacombs of the church. Which were filled with fantastic mannequins and antiques, coincidentally.


seaside © Laura Kicey

Befuddled, but not finding a body, I tried to take some shots of the mannequins, but was feeling a little shaky as I had just come from some party where someone was making me do shots to celebrate getting my show. I was going to have someone drive me home and I went outside to get into the back seat of my car. Two guys got in the front seat and we all just sat there until I asked them what was up. They said I knew. Hand over your thousands of dollars worth of camera equipment, we know you have it. They pulled out what I first thought was a gun. Then I realized...

it was a comb.


wrong turn © Laura Kicey

I seized the comb. And ran/fell out of the car with them yelling at me. I burst back into the church yelling someone just tried to rob me. And who is there but the very embodiment of cool, John Curley. Vines had overgrown part of the church lobby in a marvellous fashion since I had left and John, to calm me, suggested he might paint some red vines on my legs and photograph me in the lobby. It was a bizarre proposition but seemed like a good idea. Before the paint had dried I had run off to an adjacent abandoned industrial building (I mean what better place for an abandoned industrial structure than next to an overgrown abandoned church, c'mon?) and saw all these reporters (who incidentally are ones I know and need to talk to about the press release for my show) walking around 'looking for clues'.

And then I woke up. And I didn't even get to look at my shots.

I am currently reliving this dream in attempts to distract from obsesso-checking my inbox to see if any of the newspapers got back to me. Which they have yet too. Freaking. Out.

hand outs

Come one. Come all.

post script

I am so and one more thing, oh wait, one more thing this week.



Level of hideousness, people with the opinions, speak! Continued bad relations with font management app leave me with Caslon, still. It wants a serif so I'm almost ok with that. Was considering white panel off to left, squaring the photo crop... babble babble. Is it ugly? this is all I want people.

I'm getting 1000 printed ultra cheapos and going around and dumping them at local businesses while batting eyelashes madly.

Oh and two more things.

reconstruction

clarity © Laura Kicey

Right when things reach a fever pitch, naturally I get more news to shake things up. What did I say about September? Huh, well firstly one of my most awesome and generous local contacts has offered to channel the press release in the most right directions. Doing the happy PR dance RIGHT NOW BITCHES!

Am so happy I can nearly look past the fortune I laid out on frames (which were cheaper than getting everything custom framed but still...) that will make picking up the 10-22mm I have been dying to buy, rather impossible for quite some time.


ending © Laura Kicey

But wait there is more! Another local has asked me to participate in another show that will hopefully be in Ambler, pivoting on the theme of 'Factory', and mostly images of 'my' beloved asbestos factory. And holy cow am I filling her e-ear with all sorts of random trivia I have amassed about the place. Am bouncing off the walls that someone else is excited about it and wants me to be a part. There I am this very afternoon running down Butler Pike in Ambler, sweating chasing the Main Street Manager to gather more info and ply her with other local news.


topless © Laura Kicey

So I leave you with some old favorites of Keasby and Mattison's old glory.
Breathe it in!

opening

leaves © Laura Kicey

Press release, written. Frames, ordered. Prints, mostly whittled down. Thinking, swirly. Hopes, high, for something new, better.

September, month of my birth, start of school, has always felt like a fresh slate to me. The real beginning of the year, rather than January when all the new stuff is typically hidden under snow and not going anywhere. Autumn feels news to me. A real change in the air and skies and trees.

Last September, Things Happened.

Let's top it this year.


*************************

Official Opening info: The Sidewalk Reception with The Artist (rolls eyes) will be held on Friday September 15th 5.30 - 7 pm 41 E. Butler Ave. in Ambler. We hang the show Thursday morning.

blood, sweat and tears

dark vater © Laura Kicey

Some of each. They all flowed together and I didn't know where one began and the other ended. But it was obvious I was soaked.


split ends © Laura Kicey

single-handedly

shorthanded © Laura Kicey

Suddenly I have a solo show. The space in downtown Ambler wasn't going to show my photos until December of 2008, but today I got a call and was told someone dropped out at the very last minute and so I am curating, framing, promoting and hanging a show all by September 14th. It is in the storefront below Denney Electric Supply of Ambler, 61 East Butler Avenue. Particulars of when they have the actual opening (there is actually a reception, despite the weird positioning of the space).

It will be up until November 16th. I haven't made final selections but I need 25-30 pieces from this selection very soon as in NOW. So this is me about to disappear or become rather scarce, I'm going to be busy. I have some prints to send out to different people, blogs readers, yes I know! I haven't forgotten! Everything is in a stir but I will come through.

climate controlled

from whence we came © Laura Kicey

In an attempt to break free of the bonds of weather-induced cabin fever, this weekend, I finally got out. When I tested the waters early on Saturday afternoon, I came home after less than an hour, sick to my stomach, gasping for breath, dehydrated and wobbly. Take two, a few hours and beverages later: The Dust and I scurried off to Manayunk for explorations. Lentils and tandooried poultry propelled us through the streets and alleys to that most titillating find: a door leading in to an abandoned house in the process of being gutted, hanging ajar.

Apparently my gusto returned to me as I was the one who suggested we go in. Normally I'm too terrifically paralyzed with dread to be the one to walk through the door first, though typically follow if no one falls through the floor. But it was unlocked. And open. And not bedecked with no trespassing signs. And singing to me, so sweetly, with faded green walls and red stairs leading upward and onward (trumpets sound).


autumn leaves © Laura Kicey

We nervously made our way up the sagging stairs to the second floor. Great and small hunks of wallpaper in the most extraordinary patterns hung from the walls in the visible rooms. I love the little left-behinds. Tiny telling details. The questions these decisions ask. It made me think of a story I heard on This American Life which I have been yakking about to the most available ears lately, so you might have been hit with it already. It tells the story of a group of boys who broke into an abandoned house, filled with pieces of the lives of a family who seemed to have gotten up and walked out and decades later go looking for the answers.

Sweat burning our eyes and grit sticking to our arms and faces, we played with angles until a voice downstairs murmured hello and made me too shaky to continue onward in the dying evening light. The body attached to voice was apparently less brave than we two and we slipped back out into the decreasingly sultry eve. We made our way into Fishtown to see a band or three and give ourselves a workout trying to keep up with the performers. The antics of the lead singer of the Israeli band Monotonix were especially appreciated along with my earplugs and a safe distance from the swinging microphone and other flying debris and furniture.


dissonance © Laura Kicey

The heat has officially subsided. Though the website is not yet done, the secret-code workings are safely in the hands of K for the time being, so I may have to sneak out tonight for a breath of the fresh stuff before it gets stale. The end of captivity.

Also Happy Birthday to my brother!!! He is days away from returning to this side of the Atlantic and I haven't heard that punk's voice in months....


root cellar © Laura Kicey

tropical depression

So whoever said the heat was going to "break" overnight, lied.

I'm trying not to be enraged because it makes my ears turn "fuschia" and the sauna outside was doing a pretty good job of that all by itself.


molten © Laura Kicey

Livid. Sweating is not acceptable.

The only reason the heat is bearable is because of the project I have been pouring myself into, which keeps me indoors in semi-airconditioned spaces, and that is the redesign of Dustin's website. Ms. K and I have been code and design wrangling on and off for a couple of weeks now and the site is almost but not quite ready to enjoy live status, looks-wise, just not yet content wise and we are still plotting how to work out the galleries.



It has been a long time since I was super-pleased with anything I've designed. I've never really designed a website from the bottom up and worked so closely with codemonkey to make the magical strings of gibberish-to-my-eyes fall into place. I mean, laurakicey.com is currently (again? still?) an eyesore and my next project... but this site, though pretty simple, is just exactly right for him and his work. And hopefully it will help score him a job which is the bottom line. I'll say it again, anybody know of someone looking for a killer photographer or an events coordinator, he's it. Go now! I'll have a big announcement when it goes live because I will likely be unable to contain myself any longer.


(does Design Dance of Happiness, awkwardly, because of out-of-practiceness)

cold sweats

thaw © Laura Kicey

Completely powerless to do anything but wait, I give in to the current partial-national preoocupation with the extreme heatwave. Now, going on what, four entries about this... I want to be outside breathing deep breaths, not labored shallow ones!


pointed © Laura Kicey

My friends in San Fran were rocked by a little 4.7 earthquake last night.... didn't even make the news. How often does this happen and no one talks about it? Scary.

Now, I throw snowballs in the face of the heat I can't stop from being consumed by, physically and creatively.


scales © Laura Kicey

I like the color green and all; was even monkeying with the colored gels I just got last night. But nothing beats the aesthetics of snowy winter. Better than green is white... making everything stand out against it rather than compete. Hand me a scarf!


turnaround © Laura Kicey

Enough fantasy for one afternoon. I now return you to your regularly scheduled panting and fatigue.