a blog for alex

because he needs a happy booty to ya too.

i remember hating my brother sometimes. even wishing he was dead once or twice. but the thought of life without alex always brought me to tears. still does. i've never known life without him. even now, he's still a larger-than-life influence.

and now some meandering:

she hated the forgetting

wisps of memory sliding through her fingers

scattering, dissipating, flying

she watched them

sad

mute, dumb, paralyzed

powerless

if she asked,

would he (could he) bring them back to her?

maybe next thursday

she'll find a jar

lid shut tight

not like the fireflies they caught 

last september

his birthday

and let escape by morning

she wouldn't let go

if he left her a jar

maybe next thursday

and a few happy thoughts:

alex could build the best block towers. and he'd let you help knock them down after mom took pictures.

he taught me to drive a stick. he was even patient about it...mostly.

he let me tag along after him. sometimes, in high school, he even let me hang out with him and his friends. (don't know if i've ever known greater guys...)

he loved star wars.

he was SUCH a geek. but i always thought he was the ultimate cool. he liked ultimate, too.

he had quite the imagination. we tried to create our own secret language once (his idea). i think it lasted about a week.

once, he built a casino in our basement.

he could build forts out of anything...blankets in the living room, scrap wood in a tree, snow caves in the driveway...and he'd let you hang out there, too.

he was smart and witty and could always make me laugh (when he wasn't torturing me...or when i wasn't being dramatic)

i always knew he was a good guy, even when he was holding me down and trying to spit in my face (ok he only did that once). i knew he was someone who loved the lord and loved his family. even his awkward little sister.

love you, al. happy belated booty to ya, too.

check it out

www.anniegedicks.com

not all of the kinks are worked out yet, particularly on internet explorer, but i would LOVE to get some feedback from you all.

was without internet all weekend...thus the owlex birthday post is coming tonight...keeping in the gedicks family tradition of belated birthday shout-outs. :)

my lists will defend me

i really love to make lists. really a lot. i write one on my wrist almost every day. this is the list of stuff that must be completed before day's end. sometimes it actually happens.  one of my favorite authors, terry tempest williams, writes: 

I love to make lists. Maybe it's my background in beehives and breadmaking, the whole business of being industrious and frugal (of which I am neither) that a list promotes. Or maybe it's the power that comes when you can cross something off a list. Done. Finished. Move on to the next chore. I can see in a very tangible form what I have accomplished in a day. Or perhaps it's the democratic nature of lists that I find so attractive.  Each task is of equal importance on paper. so "pick up fresh flowers" carries the same weight as "do the laundry." It's the line slashed through the words that counts. Never mind that the pleasurable items are crossed off by noon and the difficult ones, meant for procrastination anyway, get moved to the next day's agenda. The point is that my intentions are honorable. My lists will defend me.*

my thoughts exactly, terry. my thoughts exactly.  now here's some art about that. 

*Williams, Terry Tempest. Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place. New York: Vintage Books 1991, p. 87.

changed my life...

i've had a major breakthrough. the yellow ones DO stop. i'd been going to the wrong bus stop. manda and her friend abby were witnesses to the life-changing event. they were going to work with my roommate, nikki, who was taking them on a tour of the capitol and we were all walking out to meet the bus together. i started to turn left to head for my loathsome bus and nikki said, i go this way. so we went with her and lo and behold straight down the sidewalk and across the street from my lousy stop, but sneakily hidden* by some trees was a stop that served two, that's right, two buses - an express and a local - that run every 5-10 minutes and get to the metro in 10-15 minutes. and right down the street from that is another local bus. so now there are three ways for me to be lazy. i still like to walk now and then, but it's so nice not to show up to work a sweaty mess; and i think my coworkers appreciate it, too. thank you, nikki, for changing my life.

*i know some of you who live around here will be tempted to scoff and say, how could you NOT know about this stop? how could you even think it's hidden? but, to you i say, can it. and then i say, go down the stairs in the archway and glance to the right. can you see the bus stop? well, i couldn't. now look left. see? see? and if you're reading this in the winter, when there are no leaves on the trees, you're cheating.

yesterday...

i bought more running clothes.

remnants of a label

best if used by (second generation), 2007

drypoint on wood on handmade kozo paper and found objects cast in resin

pint size

a few years ago, two of my artist friends and i discovered that we all use jars in our work and that our work harmonized together quite well.  we put together an exhibit titled, remnants of a label.  i couldn't figure out what to make for this exhibit. i did use jars, but none of my current artwork really applied to this concept. through experimentation and desperation, best if used by was born.  here's an excerpt from my thesis that explains the work: 

In the remnants of a label series, I floated small prints inside of resin cast in mason jars and then broke the jar away. The jars are important in referencing the feminine tradition of preserving. I used to help my mother preserve the apples that we picked from the trees in our back yard. I also remember the many jars of different foods lining the shelves in my grandmother's pantry, needing some dusting before being opened for consumption. My jars are an unpolished amber color, as if they'd been sitting on a shelf for a long time, perhaps past the expiration date. Have these traditional roles expired? The prints inside the jars relate to self. Do these jars preserve or trap me within the traditional role? What would happen if I break from that role? I also think of how my heritage has shaped, molded and marked me, as the glass jar has the resin.

my must-haves

i started to write a comment on miss kitti's post, but it outgrew the comment section, so i decided to make it my own. imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?  so here are my weaknesses. i will also steal everyone else's comments, especially the electrolysis. never shave again? sign me up.  i also wish i didn't have to sleep or eat. except i really like food (lately in strange combinations) so that one would never work. 

but really, aside from diet coke (totally a headache cure, kitti, i'm with you all the way) i have a major weakness for sports equipment and art supplies.  i love love love buying running clothes and shoes, backpacking and camping gear, swimming stuff...you name it. it's an investment, no? (so i tell myself when the credit card bill comes. and then i comfort myself with thoughts of the frequent flier miles i earned with each "investment.") i most recently indulged in climbing shoes and a harness. boxing gloves are probably next; i already have the wraps. but i need a place to box. (details, details) i entertained the idea of buying a punching bag, but i have no place to hang it. i most desperately want a bicycle. a hybrid. yes, yes, i already own a serviceable bike...from 1993. and i'm not exaggerating. i bought it with the money i saved from my paper route. so i deserve a new one. especially since i've worked so much overtime lately...

it is literally impossible for me to go into an art store and come out empty-handed. (i think i've done it once, but i was with a friend. and she bought some items that i'd helped her pick out, so it doesn't count. i will always find some paint, pens, squeegee, paper, paint, chalk pastels, pencils, sketchbooks, book cloth, paint, wood, stretchers, paint, canvas, fabric, paint or some kind of goo that makes something else do something cool. i would love a printing press. this one. i did recently acquire a studio. that deserves a post all its very own. oh, did i mention paint? 

also, i wish i could sing. like really belt it like aretha or a fine frenzy. ok she doesn't really belt it cause it's not her style. but she could if she wanted.