Wednesday, April 17, 2013

On my mind.


My daughter sent it to me (via Design Mom)--read this to have a sense of the context, and of Marina Abramović's work.

I love contemplating rituals, the ways we give shape to experience by repeating gestures. Every summer seems to be a new opportunity for this, so I am also thinking about this little series on Slate about artists' rituals. (I am anxiously awaiting the next piece in the series, which will focus on artists who sleep in, and stay up, late. I want to be a morning person, especially in the summer, but I am not. I am not a morning person, despite my desire.)

Yesterday when my commitments with work were done, I went over to my daughter's house to chat with her, hold the baby, play dominoes and Bananagrams with my grandson, while she folded the laundry. And last Friday, I did the same--went over to my son's, with Creamsicles and fruit snacks, to talk to my son, my daughter-in-law, and my daughter while the children played with and around us. In a few weeks, the historian and I will go to Scotland; my youngest daughter will come home this summer, and I hope all of us will be able to go to Idaho together. All of these moments, repeated, have the feel of ritual to me.

These touch points are so important. I need more of them, just like I need the shape to my day that two walks each day, that making dinner in the evening, that reading a little before sleep give.

I am also thinking about this. I used it in my digital story, and can't get it out of my mind, or heart:


  1. I haven't watched the video (is that we call them now?) yet, but I loved your post. And the thing of it is that the touch point, the ritual doesn't have to be grand or highly produced, you know? Like, sometimes I don't do things because I think, well this won't be good enough. But it is.

  2. I'm so glad you appreciated it. I saw it and immediately thought of you. Love you!

  3. Beautiful thoughts, HT. So glad you have these happy rituals to look forward to. Ritual, whether grand or minimal, can be such a grounding practice. It helps center me when life's winds want to carry me hither an yon (though sometimes that journey can be a fun adventure).

  4. Your digital story ... I would like to see it. (Missing so much by being a migrant internetter) I am also moved by the gaze, especially the final exchange. It left me wondering -- which is the ritual ... the stare or the repeated tics, blinks, movements that break the gaze. I sometimes think ritual is a kind of static that makes space around full presence.

  5. I found your Shrine on Vimeo. It has left me very still and listening.



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