10.30.08

NaNoWriMo

Posted in Make at 6:45 am by Erin

November brings us the curious event known as National Novel Writing Month. I’ve been meaning to write a novel since I was about 7 years old (yes, I was a precocious child with a copy of The Gettysburg Address taped to my bedroom wall–what of it?). Years of unfinished manuscripts and pieced-together paragraphs have followed me around and morphed into condemnations of an unfulfilled potential.

Well, no more. This challenge of writing an entire novel in a month will help me overcome my natural perfectionism, which has led to my glacially-paced approach to writing. I love the spirit of the enterprise, the thought that thousands will be typing frantically alongside me. Finally I will have an excuse to be moody and withdrawn, bleary-eyed, frantic, and reeking of coffee. I can say, “Oh, I can’t go out, I’m working on my novel” with an air of self-importance and sacrifice.

Want to join me?

10.28.08

“Something Pretty”

Posted in Look at 7:12 am by Erin

My very first blog post! I’m coming onto the scene like it’s 1999.

I thought I’d begin this little adventure with a word about the title. Sometimes, when I’m bored and searching on the internet, I just want to find something pretty. Or beautiful, or awe-inspiring. There’s that ache to be inspired, to find something transformative.

If there’s one thing I believe in, it’s the importance of art. There’s a lot to hate about the “art world”, from pretentious gallery shows to gushing, pseudo-philosophical reviews of the same. But too often, I think that art is dismissed as peripheral, superfluous. I need beauty in the world. I am often inspired by non-profit organizations’ use of art as a community-building project, from the neighborhood murals I see here in Pittsburgh, to Tyree Guyton’s Heidelberg Project, to Zana Briski’s project of bringing cameras to kids in Calcutta (documented by the film, Born into Brothels).

I walk home from work a lot, camera in hand. It presents a new way of looking at things: slowly, deliberately. And I notice little pieces of everyday magic. Two recent findings: someone suspended autumn leaves with twigs and copper wire, in a halo around a tree trunk. Another is a mossy staircase leading to a wrought iron gate, covered in leaves. It looked like a portal.

Art is a portal.