Weeknotes: January 27-31, 2025
Monday January 27
Over the weekend I shot over 100 photos in multiple locations with the borrowed Canon, but forgot to change the settings to RAW. None will be usable for our first class project. My first lesson learned. This evening the light is similar and I head out at the same hour to try and recreate some of my favorite shots, knowing it's a fool's errand. Of course, yesterday's magic is nowhere to be found, but today's magic gathers around me the longer I look.
Tuesday January 28
Stan Getz and the Oscar Peterson Trio on the turntable. I've slowed down, but I'm still working on the A-Z listening project I started in November. Earlier it was Georgia Satellites. I love "Battleship Chains," but I don’t know if I need to keep this record. On the other hand, Freeze Frame by J. Geils Band has a shocking amount of memorable hooks, even on the deeper cuts. I know it's their tenth and most commercial album, but I still love it. I think of the video for "Centerfold" with Peter Wolf dancing among lingerie-clad schoolgirls and drummer Stephen Bladd playing his big snare fill with a pool of milk on his drum. ‘80s videos. They were either bonkers or super literal.
Wednesday January 29
Sebastian the contractor is back, doing a little work in the kitchen. He's a calming presence in the house and Islay knows him now. Easy to have him here while I work. We talk about Philip Glass while he cleans up. I have a small stack of Glass records coming up in the A-Z queue. Minimalist January.
Thursday January 30
It's a Honduran Breakfast (for lunch) at Antonio's, then off to class to refine a piece for Typography class. I started the day reviewing Gravity, an album of jazz improvisations by Finland's Joona Toivanen Trio. They recorded it during an off-day on tour, spontaneously renting out a local studio they'd never been to and writing every piece on the spot with whatever instruments were on hand. That kind of music-making appeals to me because it's so free and unstructured. I'd love to make an album that way, but fear I could never allow myself to accept the results.
At night I put on Philip Glass’ The Photographer and write a three page letter to myself. I do this every year during the week of my birthday, a habit I started out of pure desperation about 13 years ago when I was really struggling with my anxiety. It helped me then, and was one of the sparks that led me into therapy. I've kept it up every year since. Sometimes I re-read the previous year’s before starting the next one, but mostly they stay in a file that I hope no one else will ever see.
After I'm done, on a whim, I write a short letter to Philip Glass, which I send to the management email I find on his website. When I read his memoir a couple years ago, I realized we shared the same birthday which is tomorrow. He is exactly 40 years my senior. I don't expect him to read it, but I enjoy writing it just the same.
Friday January 31
Despite the rainy drear, I've driven into Detroit. Heading down McClellan through Gratiot Woods past gridded plots of bare trees I stop at the letterpress studio Signal Return. A yellow school bus waits outside and I find a small tour being led through the building. The warm lights and old, well-kept equipment feel friendly and I inquire about taking an upcoming class or workshop. Further down the road is the Shepherd, a multi-use arts complex built around an old Romanesque church. It's the anchor of the emerging Little Village arts corridor and I've been meaning to visit it for months.
Stepping out of the cold rain into the vestibule, I'm immediately overwhelmed by its grandeur. Such a gorgeous room, almost radiant after the gloom outside. A gleaming white inner gallery with a center oculus lies dead ahead, beyond which is the sanctuary itself. I'm not religious, but there is a quiet reverence I enjoy in old churches. I also sometimes get this feeling in a large museum or library. This space combines all three. I tread quietly through the rooms and alcoves with my dripping umbrella and damp coat, admiring the bold textiles currently on exhibit. This is my favorite thing to do on my birthday. Marinate in art, reflect, and get inspired for the year ahead.